Death of a Muse
by Amber Cloud
Summary: [Post Rent] Mark's next assignment, an OC, a brief moment of happiness and then....muhahaha! Please read and review. Thank You. Chapter 26...it's finally here.... VIVA La Vie Boheme!
1. Chapter 1

Death of a Muse.

Legal Disclaimer-the joy of art is that other people's characters can stay with you, wether you like it or not. This is fanfiction. There is no money taken here, no money given as well. If you sue me, you're focusing on my empty wallet.

Author's Note-So, saw the play, saw the movie and I am HOOKED. Dang it. Yep, it's a little Mary Sue ish, but, you'll understand why when I get there. Reviewing keeps me in the department of sane. I would appreciate thoughts on it. Thanks.

_

* * *

Mark's POV_

Roger told me that I had to get out and experience life. I hate to admit that he is right, but he is. Seeing him and Mimi together is fantastic, I'm happy for him to finally find someone and actually have the loft filled with new music again, but I do have to admit to envy. He has love. I have, well, I have my camera and a job that I reluctantly went back to, with new terms so that I don't have to sell my soul.

The only problem is I have artistic block. I have no earthly clue what to shoot next. No film, no money and rent is coming due, so, I need to figure something out. Roger tried to help, suggesting all sorts of shit, and Mimi smiled, offered the stories of the Cat Scratch Club, but I hated to remind her that I can't run that on television.

The thought occurred to me as Christmas fell on New York again, that maybe I could do something to celebrate this season where everyone was supposed to be nice to each other to explore it. I only know Christmas through Roger, I grew up with a menorah and dradles. Eight nights of gifts makes you a little spoiled, but I always wondered what you do on one night of gifts.

New York though was great with the pre-Christmas stuff. I got on my bike, rode down to Rockefeller Center and shot the tree. It was beautiful to see in the daytime, and I made a mental note to see it that night, hopefully I had enough for a bus ride, because I wasn't going to ride my bike down here. I started to wander, shooting whatever came to mind, hoping to catch New Yorkers being nice to each other. I know what you're thinking, not a chance in hell.

I got lucky. VERY lucky as I got around Broadway and closer to the home offices of the American Ballet Theater. The beauty of the dancers heading into the theater's halls was a painting in itself, at least on film you could catch their beauty in simply moving. Jesus, they were beautiful.

"You could at least ask if you can film them," a hard, yet female voice asked behind me.

I turned to face the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They were contained in the face of an irritated woman, whose red hair was complimented by the flare of her green eyes.

"Public property," I replied instantly, "I can shoot them, and I am not doing close ups."

"Likely story," she glared, as I fumbled with my camera, "You a stalker or a real filmmaker?"

I fumbled for my card. Alexi Darling made sure I had them when I took the job back, so that at least I could talk my way out of a situation when I needed to. Long fingers took it from me, glanced at it, and then the green eyes that reminded me of pictures of the sea took me back in.

"God, I hate Buzzline," she said, "But you don't seem like their usual sleazy reporters. Why are you following dancers, Mr. Cohen? A story on eating disorders?"

I shrugged. I really didn't know why I went there. Should I admit that watching the beautiful women at least would past the time? Did I want to admit it her that I was looking for a story? I decided on Christmas.

"I'm Mark, Mr. Cohen's my father, " I started, outstretching my mittened hand, "and I am actually looking for Christmas. At least in the city."

Her face changed from the fury of protector of her friends to soften into that of an angel.

"Good luck," she smiled, "Do you want to film rehearsal?"

"Nutcracker?" I asked, knowing that as my only tidbit of ballet knowledge. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice.

"Time of year for it," she replied, "My name is Mary, Mary Blaine, and today is your lucky day, Mark Cohen, you can film rehearsal, because you are my guest."

_Guest_, I thought to myself, following her as we entered the rehearsal hall, _What part is she dancing?_

I saw the poster for the performances and instantly knew I had just met one of the principal dancers for Nutcracker. She was dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy Role.

That evening, Roger looked at me with a newfound respect. I had developed the film I had shot and was getting the rare chance to show it to him. Mimi had to work that night and he was going to kick back at home.

Images of Mary filled the room as she rehearsed. I had managed surprisingly to get the best of her movements down to the simple smile she gave me when she realized that I had nailed her entire routine. She lit up when she smiled and I guess Roger noticed that I did too.

"You think you'll be able to film an actual performance?" Roger asked, "I mean it's fantastic that she let you in to see rehearsal, but you could get the whole feel with her in costume."

"She's trying to find that out for me," I replied, remembering how I offered to buy her a coffee after rehearsal, "She said she'd call."

She had agreed to join me only if it was dutch. She also boldly asked for my number. It was odd that she did, but I realized instantly that she was as interested as I was. I was smitten.

"I think you've managed to capture how I see Mimi when she dances," Roger said, his silence more of awe than critique, "Excellent work, Mark."

Roger wasn't only my best friend, he was also my best critic. It was great to hear him say that, and I let the film run a bit more, capturing her expression when I made her laugh.

"She's going to call? Mark, you might have to do something that you don't want to do," Roger teased.

"No, this time, I might actually go out with her," I smiled, "It is time to commit."

And hopefully not be committed.


	2. Chapter 2

Legal Disclaimer-Don't own. Wouldn't want to make money from them, I would give it all up. Just working out an artistic jones . If you're looking for money, focus in on my empty wallet.

Author's Note-I love my reviewers. You guys all rock. This and the rest of this story is not just for those who have come before, but those who have friends, family and heroes who live every day with diease.

Happy World Aids Day everyone.

* * *

"Speak" the answering machine droned as Mark was getting dressed. He had managed a pot of coffee, cereal and a cold shower before the phone rang, which for him, wasn't that easy.

"Mark Cohen! Answer your phone, it's Mary!" the woman hollered into the phone.

Flying across the loft he answered the phone, stepping quietly as not to wake Roger, who was out cold on the couch.

"I'm here, I'm here," he replied, praying she wouldn't hang up.

"Made you run, huh?" she assumed, from his lack of breath, "Look, rehearsal got cancelled today which means I have a free day, with you, if you want."

Mark smiled. It was the first time in ages someone wanted to spend the day just with him. In the two weeks since he met Mary he knew that he had fallen for her, and he knew it was a hard fall. The thought of a whole day with her was mind blowing.

"Yes," he said distractedly, "I would want that."

"Okay then, where and when," she continued, "Unless you want me to come by your place."

_Shit,_ Mark thought. He reconsidered.

"Yeah," he continued, "It's about time you saw how the other half lived."

"Directions, and I'll even bring coffee," Mary continued, "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too," Mark smiled, even though Mary couldn't see it.

He gave directions, she hung up and he stood there for a moment, contemplating his coffee then looked around the loft. Mimi had been a cleaning binge, so at least it looked presentable.

"So, when's she coming?" Roger asked, breaking the silence.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Mark replied, looking toward his roommate's perch on the sofa, "In an hour."

"Good, just enough time for a shower," Roger yawned, "What time is it?"

"8:30," Mark replied, "What time did you get in last night?"

"The band played till one, the band played till two and I wasn't going to wake Mimi, she and Maureen were going Christmas shopping early," Roger replied, looking at him sleepily, "She left about seven."

"You heard her and didn't go into your room?" Mark asked, pouring another cup of coffee and bringing it him, "Too tired?"

"Got comfortable," Roger's reply was muffled by his slurp of coffee, "Sides, I got to hear you on the phone with your woman."

"And you get to meet her, only if you lose the smell of that bar," Mark replied, "We need to go shoot stuff today anyway."

Roger laughed, got up and taking his coffee with him, headed for the small bathroom that he, Mimi and Mark now shared. Mark in turn made sure the place got straightened, even fluffing up the pillows that Roger had messed up in his sleep.

Roger was dressed and respectable when the rapping at the door began.

"Man, she's got a good arm," Roger said as he raced Mark for the door, winning as Mark slid across the floor.

"For baseball," she replied as the door opened, "My hearing is good too."

Roger grinned. Mark sighed. In the doorway of their loft, she was even more beautiful.

"Hey there, so this is the batcave?" she said, walking in, looking around then handing Mark a steaming coffee, "You've been elusive about showing it to me."

"That's Mark, the elusive one," Roger smiled at her, "You must be Mary."

"And you must be Roger," she smiled back, "Cause you don't fit the description of Collins."

Mark laughed. She walked over to him and hugged him.

"Nice to see you," she said, "I hope I didn't wake you guys."

Mark yawned. As he stretched, Roger leaned against the doorframe and watched him.

"No, strangely enough, I was up," Mark's replied, "Have a seat."

As she sat on the couch, Mark joined her. He put the coffee on the small table in front of them.

"Where to today?" she asked, meeting his eyes, "We've covered Mosques, Temples, Churches, even that stop at the Scientology center.."

"How about I show you what I shot?" Mark asked.

"That will work as well," Mary smiled, "You just want to stay in?"

Mark leaned over and did the first thing that came to his mind. He kissed her.

Roger stopped for a moment and stared at them. He had to resist a silent urge to clap. Mark looked into her eyes as he broke the kiss. The light shone there was suddenly replaced with shock and embarrassment.

"Well that was unexpected," she replied, "and somewhat wonderful."

Mark blushed.

"Thanks," his voice a near whisper, "I've been wanting to do that for a little while."

"You can do that whenever," Mary's voice as soft as his, "But I think Roger might have something to say about us doing it here."

"No, I won't," Roger replied, "Mark's seen me and Mimi enough lately."

Mark's glare made Roger grin.

"It's true," Roger continued, "Sorry that Mimi's not here to meet you. She and Maureen went shopping."

"Maureen?" Mary asked, "You still keep in touch with your ex?"

Mark nodded. He got up from his place on the couch and walked over to his film table.

"She's been pretty close since Angel's death," Roger replied, heading into the kitchen for his own bowl of cereal.

"Angel?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, I never told you about her," Mark began, "It might be better if I show you."

Mary stood up and joined Mark at the table. He took out a film canister, labeled "Proof Positive" and began to thread his waiting projector.

"You mind seeing this again Roger?" Mark asked quietly as his friend's look of shock filled his face.

Roger was stunned enough to not hear the question. Mark never told Mary about Angel. He began to wonder what Mark had told her about them.


	3. Chapter 3

Death of a Muse

Legal Disclaimer-This is called fanfiction. I have no money. Zoom in on my empty wallet.

Author's Note-I'll admit it, I'm a sucker for reviews. I rewrote this chapter three times. I hope you guys like it. I also saw Rent again. It gets better second time around, although I wish to hades that they had kept the second part of Goodbye Love in the final edit. We don't get to see it till the DVD release.

* * *

Mark watched her as she watched his film. Roger had taken a back seat to the story unfolding in front of him, as much as he wanted to comment, he knew that Mark wouldn't hear him. His body language had screamed 'Go away'.

Mary brought out something in Mark he hadn't seen since he dated Maureen. He wanted to protect her. From what, he had no idea, the woman was certainly strong enough to fight her own battles, he knew that from her introduction to him, but something about her got to him. He had boldly kissed her, not knowing why, just knowing that was the thing to do at that moment.

Blue eye met green across the loft. Mark tried to explain it all in one look, but it was going to take a conversation with Roger to make it all right. He knew that and looked away. When he looked back, Roger smiled. He got the message, they knew each other long enough that looks and expressions could say more than words. Roger was concerned though.

Mary squeezed Mark's hand as the filmcame upon Angel's gravesite. It had an impact.

"I wish you had told me," she whispered, "Ido understand."

The film flickered into darkness and Mark got up to reverse the projector. Mary broke the silence that had settled upon them.

"Thank you for showing me this," she said, "I loved it. Mark, you are very talented."

Mark blushed. It was hard to take compliments, they all sounded hollow and wooden to him, the compliment to him was the reaction people had to his work. Mary was the first person since Maureen to get it.

_Thank God,_ he thought to himself.

"I thought it would be better to show you Angel alive," Mark began, "I hope you do understand why."

"Mark, I'm in ballet, remember?" Mary shook her head, "There are so many people infected with AIDS that are in dance. Some of them are my friends. I want to advance in ballet on my talent, not because the ballerina ahead of me is dead. It's not fair to lose such talent so damned early."

Mark looked at her. Their eyes met and he saw the frustration that hid behind hers. She knew his pain.

"Agreed," Mark turned to look at Roger.

Roger had not said anything, he just stood up and began to work on the mound of dishes that were in the sink. He had heard what she said, but didn't know if he wanted to comment. It was chance to get to know her mindset.

"You still want to go out and shoot?" Mary asked, "I think we have some sunlight left."

"Yeah, actually, I do," Mark replied, grabbing his coat and scarf, "You want to join us Rog? Look for Christmas in the shitty part of the city?"

Roger felt the smile twitch at the sides of his mouth. Mark's words reminded him of Angel.

He was interrupted by the phone.

After the standard "Speak" the deep bass voice of Collins filled the room.

"Mark! Guys, I'm downstairs, drop down the key," Collins began, "I have lunch, if you forgot."

"Shit!" Roger and Mark replied in unsion, "It is Chinese Wednesday-crap!"

Roger started cleaning the kitchen faster as Mark undid his keys to walk out onto the fire escape and throw them down to the waiting Collins.

"Chinese Wednesday?" Mary asked, bemused.

"Act hungry," Mark replied, "Collins is seeing a Chinese guy and he makes lunch for us every wednesday. We don't mind and it keeps us seeing Collins."

"Gotya," Mary caught on as her stomach growled, "It won't be hard to act hungry."

The door opened to a whirlwind that could only be described as Collins. Mark had mentioned Collins to her and the film she had just seen had shown her Collins at his very best. He was good now, but his time with Angel was the best of his life. In his hands, several bags of Chinese food. The smell was overpowering.

"The best of the orient for my guys," Collins said through his teeth, Roger moving quickly to remove the bags and the keys from his friends mouth, "And who is this?"

He walked toward her, hand oustretched. Mary smiled and shook his hand.

"I'm Mary, Mary Blaine," she said as he turned her hand to kiss it, "You must be Collins."

"I have heard much about you, my princess," Collins met her eyes, "How are you, baby? I see you have finally met Roger."

"And I have finally met you," Mary replied.

Collins looked around the room as Roger started to dole out food into plates.

"Where's the mighty Mimi?" he asked.

"She and Maureen went shopping," Roger replied, "She should be back pretty soon."

The door to the loft opened, revealing the two women just spoken of, Maureen and Mimi.

"COLLINS!" Maureen yelled and she ran into his arms, "How the hell are you baby?"

Mimi laughed, took the small shopping bag in her arms and walked in behind her. Not seeing Mary she went directly to Roger and kissed him.

"Missed you Baby, what did you bring me?" he asked, taking her into his arms.

"Oh something for later," she laughed, "I remembered it was Chinese Wednesday, so we came back early."

Maureen turned to look at the other occupants of the loft and stopped.

"Hi," she smiled, locking eyes with Mary, "You are?"

Mark stepped up and put a hand around Mary's waist.

"My girlfriend, Mary Blaine," Mark replied, "Mary, this is Maureen."


	4. Chapter 4

Death of a Muse

Legal Disclaimer-All of these characters came from the mind of Jonathan Larson, the one exception being Mary Blaine. The rights all belong to the Larson family and I only play here in the world of fanfiction, living in America.

Authors Note-Mark has a life. Whoo hoo! Maureen has to realize that Mark has one now. Mary is brought along for the ride. My reviewers are golden, my muse is beating me daily, and the music that is helping breathe this story into life is that of Adam Pascal. Go get "Model Prisoner" People! It rocks.

* * *

Maureen looked at Mark stunned for a moment then turned to Mary.

"I'm Maureen," she said, extending a hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same here," Mary said, "I have heard all about you. It's about time we met."

Maureen smiled, this was not as awkward as she thought it might be. Mary was pretty cool. Mark's heart started beating again and he turned to watch the group, grabbing his always loaded camera.

Roger watched the moment with a smidgen of glee. He knew that if Mark admitted that he had moved on, maybe Maureen would be better with Joanne. He knew they fought regularly, but he didn't like mentioning it to Mark, who still feared Maureen's mother.

"Mo, Mary, you guys better hurry, cause the rice is disappearing," Roger interrupted, "There's mushu pork if anyone's interested."

* * *

After a group lunch and conversation, Roger sat on the fire escape, smoking a cigarette. He didn't smoke that much anymore, just on occasion, to dull the aftereffects of taking his AZT. Strangely enough, the food, the drugs and his lack of sleep really didn't bother him. Mark's girl was amazing, she fit in with everyone, and he didn't feel like he had to keep entertaining her for Mark's sake. She could carry her own.

Why had Mark been so reluctant to tell her about Angel? About any of them? He knew from Mary's reaction to the movie she had no clue that Roger was positive. She knew about Collins though. Was he so concerned about Roger and Mimi that he had lost himself in the mix? He remembered their fight just before he left for Santa Fe. He had been wrong to tell Mark that he was living a lie, the guy had given up several jobs to keep his ass alive when he was ready to give up. He had seen him through rehab, had kept their meager home going, and when it looked like he was getting his own private life back, he couldn't talk about his immediate past. Roger wasn't one to judge, but he knew that Mark would eventually want to talk and this time he would be the one listening.

"Penny for your thoughts," Mark said from behind him.

"I'll take that penny and raise you a quarter," Roger replied, motioning for Mark to join him on the rail, "Where are the women?"

"Being entertained by another one of Collins', 'When I was at NYU' stories," Mark's replied, "I don't think I'll ever get Mary out of this loft today."

"She needs to meet everyone, Mark, she's your girlfriend, it's just lucky her rehearsal cancelled," Roger took another drag off the cigarette, "You seem a little calmer. Maureen was a class act, you don't have to worry."

"Thanks, I think," Mark sighed, "I was so scared when Maureen and Mary met, but she took it very well."

"Mark, the woman in there who you are just getting to love, is STUNNING," Roger turned to see his friend's reaction, "Maureen should take it very well, she lost you when she went with Joanne."

"I lost her," Mark said, "I don't want to lose Mary."

"Is that what had you so worked up today?" Roger lit another cigarette, "You didn't mention Angel to her at all. Mark, you won a local emmy with your movie. First time out of the gate. No one does that."

"I did," Mark turned to look at the group inside the room, "I don't know what made me not mention Angel, Roger, I just don't fucking know. I wanted to bring it up with her, but the words couldn't find a way to work. She showed me a lot in the past two weeks. I learned all about her life, she's so much like we are, just on the other side of town. She even has a version of my mother."

"Hey, the Irish are the lost tribe of Israel," Roger commented, trying to lighten Mark's mood, "I don't think Angel would have minded. I was a little upset when I realized that you hadn't mentioned my HIV status with her."

"It's not my comment to make, Roger," Mark's eyes met his, "It's yours."

"Thank you for that," Roger looked away, "It's about life, not the disease, right?"

"Amen," Mark replied, "Now, I'm gonna go finish lunch and shoot some scenes in this fucking town, you interested in joining us?"

Roger laughed and nodded, it would be good to go out and sieze the day.

* * *

Six people looking for the Holiday Spirit in NYC was almost overwhelming for Mark and his camera. They spent the entire afternoon shooting all over Alphabet City, getting every form of Christmas, Chanukah, Ramadan and any other conceivable Christmas decoration that was visible to the naked eye. Mark even stopped at the tattoo parlor where Maureen got her star tattoos to see about a Christmas tree tattoo. They had one. He shot a picture of it, not willing to permanently mark his body with one. While wasn't against tattoos, he knew a Christmas tree would send his mother into conniptions.

Collins stopped for a moment in front of the center where he and Angel used to go for Life Support. The decorations out front made him a little sad, but he knew that he had to go onward. He didn't realize that his friends had noticed, even the newest one, who with her hand in Mark's put on a hand on his shoulder.

With a deep sigh he found himself putting his hand in hers as they headed down the street. Life did move on.

Evening found them remembering the day in the Life Café. While the group had settled into a large table, Mark and Mary found themselves next to each other, hand in hand at the end of the table.

"I'm so glad that you wound up with the day off," Mark started, "This was perfect."

"Yes, it was," Mary replied, "Tomorrow's going to come early though. Two more rehearsals and it's opening night. Aw hell."

Mary reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. Checking it, she counted the number of people at the table, then looked back at Mark.

"I have a surprise for all of you," Mary announced, " I know Mark told you that I am in the ballet."

Mimi smiled. It was great to have another dancer in the crowd. Roger, laughing, raised his glass in the air.

"To dance!" he toasted and the group then drank, Mary included.

"But seriously, folks," she continued, "As a principal, I get a certain number of tickets, and I thought all of you might like to go to opening night. On me."

"Really?" Mark asked, "Mary, this is a lot of people."

"And these people are rapidly becoming my friends," Mary said, "You guys want to come?"

Mimi smiled, she had always wanted to see the Nutcracker, and seeing it at the ABT had been a dream of hers. She shook her head yes, as Roger watched her. To see the light in her eyes over the ballet was a given for him. Collins was enchanted, asked if he could bring a date, Mary laughed and handed him an extra ticket. She also made sure that Maureen had two, mentioning that she would love to meet Joanne as well.

Mark was sipping his tea and smiling at her when he had to finally admit it. He was in love.

Once the meal was finished and Maureen and Collins went their separate ways, the two couples found themselves heading back to the loft. Roger and Mimi were talking about going out, both of them being off, while Mark and Mary sat on the couch.

While the other couple headed out to embrace the night, Mary yawned.

"Wow, I'm sorry, I didn't realize where time had gotten," Mark said, "I should probably get you home."

"Mark Cohen, I'm not having you travel alone at night," Mary laughed a little drunkenly, "If you are okay with it, can I stay on your couch?"

"Not the couch baby," Mark said, trying desperately to sound sexy, "There's plenty of room in my…"

"Mark, not tonight, I'm too fried," Mary replied quickly, "Besides, that's something we would have to talk about. All I really want to do is sleep."

Mark watched her face. She was beat. The alcohol at dinner had done it's job, she was relaxed to the point of barely being able to stay awake.

"Then sleep you shall, my lady," Mark smiled, gently picking her up and carrying her into his room.

He covered her with his down comforter, the one truly warm thing he had from his parents other than his scarf and settled in next to her. Within minutes, both of them were asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Death of a Muse

Legal Disclaimer-Zoom in on the empty wallet. I have no money.

Author's Note-Like I said sweetie pie, it's a deal. Everyone else, what can I say, thank you. Your reviews have kept me going. Yes, it will get darker. Yes, it will have sad parts. No, it's not what you think. That's why I like writing this. And yes, there will be fireworks eventually. Between whom? Not going to tell you….going to show you. Oh yeah, a moviola is an editing machine used by filmmakers to splice film together. It's actually more like a device that sits on a wall and the film is cranked through, usually by hand. Mark has one, you saw it in the movie. Also, I have theorized that he develops his own film to save money. Filmmakers have no money, I know, I am one.

* * *

The morning light came early into Mark's bedroom. Mary had crawled out from beneath the comforter, after taking a long moment to remember exactly where she was. Mark had curled up next to her and had stayed most of the night. She was warm, but sadly alone.

Mark had woken up about three a.m. and worked on what he had previously shot during the day. The edits and cut frames had filled the floor as he tried desperately to recapture the magic. The film itself was coming together. He would every once and while look up at his bedroom door, a smile lightly crossing his face, knowing that Mary was asleep inside. It made him feel so alive.

He didn't hear her as she wandered into the bathroom, only the later sound of the plumbing. She sleepily looked at him as she walked out.

"Morning," she said softly, "How long have you been up?"

"Since about 3," Mark admitted, "You okay?"

"Yeah, what time is it?" she asked, smelling the coffee that Mark had made earlier, "This fresh?"

"6 and yes," Mark replied, splicing the edits together and running them back through his moviola, "I remembered that you were a coffee drinker. You sleep well?"

Mary found a broken mug, washed it out and poured herself a cup of the steaming brew. One thing that Mary didn't know was thatMark was more of a tea fan than she was, while he didn't want it, he always made coffee for Roger.

"Best sleep in a long time," she smiled, finding milk in their small refrigerator and pouring it into her coffee, "Thank you."

"What time is rehearsal for you?" Mark asked, "I thought you might want to do breakfast."

"9," Mary replied, "I should have enough time to get home, shower, get changed and head to the hall."

"How long should rehearsal be today?" he continued to ask her as she sipped her coffee, "You want to get together afterward?"

"About 5 hours, but it should go longer," she replied, "They're going to want us to practice a little harder till opening, Mark. I think the next time we can get together is after opening night."

Mark sighed. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but she was being very firm. She looked at him sympathetically. She wanted to spend more time with him as well. The moment was broken as Roger opened the door to his bedroom and sleepily stumbled toward the kitchen. Mark mouthed coffee to her and she grabbed a mug to hand to him. He sleepwalked as he grabbed the carafe, filled the mug and added sugar. Sipping it slowly, he turned to face Mary.

Gently, and surprisingly, he kissed her on the cheek and headed back into his bedroom.

Mary's gaze followed him and she meet Mark's look.

"Don't tell me does that with you," she said, laughing.

"He doesn't, but he is particular about his coffee," Mark had gotten back into his editing, "He likes you though, he wouldn't do that otherwise."

Mary came up behind him. She put down her coffee mug next to his tea and put her arms around him, looking over his shoulder at his edit.

"Thank you for being a perfect gentleman last night," she whispered into his ear, "Thank you so much."

Mark turned around, gathering her into his arms. He found himself kissing the top of her head. The simple act of sleeping with her last night had left him refreshed as well. He woke up to her sleeping face and felt like he was in heaven. Here now, he could just simply hold her and feel the same way.

"You sure you don't want to do breakfast?" he asked after a moment, "I actually do have money, and I can pay."

"I would love to, but I can't," Mary answered, "I better get moving as well. Though I don't want to leave this. I have to concentrate on the ballet, Mark. The dance deserves me focused completely."

"Yes, it does," Mark admitted, "But I will miss you."

"We can celebrate after opening night," Mary offered, pulling back to look into his eyes, "This I do promise you."

She kissed him on the lips and pulled away, heading into his room to gather her shoes and bag. Mark sat back down, ran the shot he had just edited back through the moviola, smiling at the shot of Mary and Mimi pirouetting for the camera. Together the women looked amazing.

Mary came back with her stuff and pulled her coat on. Mark got up and followed her to the door. This time, he gathered her into his arms, kissed her passionately, and then stepped back.

"You're making this very hard for me, aren't you?" she said, "I have to go to rehearsal, but I will call you afterward."

"And I'll be waiting for your call," Mark replied, "Have a great rehearsal."

"Work on your movie, Mark," Mary said, heading down the stairs, "I want to see what you have worked on after opening, ok?"

"Yes maam," Mark laughed, watching her walk down the stairs.

As she left the building, Mark walked across the loft to the windows to watch her head for the subway. It was hard to miss her red hair in the morning light. She took a moment, turned and looked at the windows, and waved.

"Mary leave?" Roger asked from behind him, shattering the silence.

"Yeah, she has rehearsal at nine," Mark replied turning around to face his friend, "She wants to stay focused on the ballet, so we won't see her until opening night."

"That means you'll see her when, tomorrow?" Roger teased, heading back to refill his coffee mug.

"I'm going to respect her wishes, Roger," Mark replied, "She's a hell of a ballerina. If my keeping away from her keeps her focused on the job at hand, so be it."

Roger stopped and turned back to Mark. It was surprising to hear him say that.

"Who are you and what have you done with the loner Mark Cohen I used to know?" Roger asked mockingly, "She spends the night with you and you're willing to do anything she asks of you? You're whipped boy."

The frustrated glare he got back spoke volumes. Mark was going to speak, stopped and glared at Roger some more.

"You guys didn't…." Roger asked, "Wow."

"It's not like that," Mark said, sitting back down at the moviola, "You have to understand how tired she was. She slept. I slept. It was just so damn cool to wake up in someone's arms, listening to their heartbeat, sharing their warmth…"

"Dealing with their breath in the morning," Roger added, "Go on."

"Hey, it was perfect," Mark continued, "She has…"

His thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. Mark jumped up to grab it, instantly thinking that she forgot something as Roger beat him to the door. He pulled it open to reveal Collins.

"Good morning my brothers," he said, bag of bagels in his hand, "I hope this is not too early."

"Nah, Mark's just mooning over Mary," Roger said, hugging him, "Bagels? What's with all the food, Collins, you trying to fatten us up or something?"

"No, was going to ask you a favor and I thought this would help," Collins said entering the room.

Mark hugged Collins as well.

"Ask away," Mark said, returning to the moviola, "What's on your mind?"

"I need a place to hang my hat for a few days," Collins began, taking a spot at the small table that they used as a desk/table/workspace, "The landlord wants to spray for roaches by chasing us out of the place. Chang is going to stay with his folks while this happens, they don't know about me, so, I need a place."

"The couch is yours my friend," Roger said, taking a bagel, smearing it with cream cheese and starting to wolf it down, "Whenever, you know that."

"My thanks to you my friends," Collins said, walking up to where Mark was working, "What you working on? The stuff you shot yesterday with your woman?"

"Mary is her name," Mark smiled, "Not my woman. Geez, you think it would have been eons since I dated, or even had a girlfriend."

"It has been, but this one I like," Collins said, "She doesn't seem as into herself as Maureen. I love Maureen, don't get me wrong, but Mary's enchanting."

"Thanks," Mark said, running another spool of film, "You still coming to the ballet? Going to bring Chang?"

"He's got to work at the family restaurant, but I am going to try and convince him," Collins replied, "He's still not used to dating, but, his family is beginning to figure it all out."

"Drama, drama and more drama," Roger said, "Mary stayed over last night."

"Mark! You didn't share," Collins patted the younger man on the back, "Good for you."

"All we did was sleep," Mark muttered, "Why do you guys want to know about my sex life?"

"It's nice to hear when one gets restarted, Mark," Roger grinned, "We're not talking about your sex life, we're cheering you on."

"I want to take this slow, okay?" Mark stopped for another moment, ran the film back through the moviola's hand crank, "This is a relationship that I don't want to mess up."

Collins raised an eyebrow.

"You guys that serious?" he asked.

"I would like it be," Mark said, "She makes me happy. She's helped me on this project and given me other eyes to see things through, Collins. There's nothing wrong with that."

"She's your muse man, and that's cool," Roger said, "My muse found me on the fire escape."

"And now she's in your bed," Mimi said, coming out of the bedroom, "Save me a bagel will you. Morning Collins."

"Morning Mimi," Collins replied, "We're just discussing Mark's sex life."

"What? Mary stayed over?" Mimi asked, "Good for you, Mark!"

"They slept, but not together," Collins replied, "Mark, Mark, Mark."

Mark turned back around and tried desperately to not blush. He didn't like the attention, but if he got upset, they won.

"This conversation is over guys, I gotta work," Mark said, pulling another frame onto the reels of the moviola, "You guys don't mind, do you?"

Collins laughed.

"Mark, will you see her today?" Mimi asked bringing over a mug of tea for Mark, "I wanted to thank her again for the Nutcracker tickets."

"Actually we'll see her on opening night," Mark replied, "She's wanting to concentrate entirely on the ballet right now."

"Fair enough," Mimi put a hand on his shoulder, "You should get her roses for opening night."

Mark turned and looked in his roommate's eyes. She meant well.

"Thanks, I was thinking the same thing," he said, "But what color, what is the right thing to do?"

"Plum colored," Mimi suggested, "She is the Sugar Plum Fairy."


	6. Chapter 6

Death of a Muse

Chapter 6

Legal Disclaimer-The character's are Jonathan Larson's. My character is Mary Blaine.

Author Note-Oh my, the muse got me out of bed, to the computer and six pages later…here I am updating again…Now, my reviewers. I love all of you. I do. You make me smile when I think of how into this story I have gotten. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Also, words of warning. The lights have gone out. It's dark in here.

* * *

Roger saw it first. He and the band had just gotten into their first song of rehearsal when Roger spied the story on the TV over the bar. Something happened at the American Ballet Theater. Ballerina found dead had been the teaser he could read, the band stopping when they realized he was distracted.

"Mickey, can you turn up the volume?" he asked the bartender,watching the screen and trying to follow the story from across the room.

Luckily, Channel 9 was playing it over and over. There was a murder at the American Ballet Theater. That was the only thing that they were saying, no names, just another horrible death in the Big Apple.

"Sorry guys," Roger said, looking at his band with his face paling, "I can't stay."

Mark Cohen was literally having dreams of Sugar Plum fairies dancing in his head. The lead sugar plum danced toward him, her eyes as green as the trees and her smile warming his heart. The interruption of the phone was enough to shake him out of the scene, the voice pulling him back into the reality of the loft.

"MARK! Pick up the fucking phone, goddamit, Mark, its important…" Roger's voice was calm, yet Mark could tell the edge of intense frustration coming from it, "Pick up the phone."

"I'm here; I'm here," Mark said groggily, "What's wrong?"

"Have you heard from Mary?" he asked quickly, "It's important."

"No, her rehearsal must have ended a few hours ago, but I haven't heard from her, why?" Mark replied, "She's supposed to call."

"Mark, I don't want to tell you this over the phone, come to the bar, now," Roger begged, "It's not good."

Mark started to yank on his shoes and find his scarf while still on the phone.

"I can be there in a few," Mark said.

The tone of Roger's voice scared him. It was bad. The look on Roger's face was worse when he got to Mickey's bar a few minutes later. Roger stood there waiting.

"You need to sit," Roger said, "There's been a ballerina found murdered at the ABT, they aren't releasing the name."

Mark found himself searching for a quarter to make a phone call. Roger handed him one, and stood with him while he tried to reach the theater. Its constant busy signal drove Mark crazy. He was shaking by the fifth attempt, the shock and panic setting in.

"Let's go down there Mark," Roger said, yanking on his leather jacket, "I'm going with you."

Mark kept trying the phone. Roger stopped him, repeated himself, and looked at Mark. His friend's eyes had gone cold and he was one-tracking.

"She can't be," Mark muttered, "Dammit Roger she can't be."

"She's not until we know, Mark," Roger said, "Come on."

As they started to leave the bar, Collins joined them. Roger had called him right after Mark, making sure that he had some help with Mark and at the same time, he knew Collins would do what he could to find out more information. The unexpected arrival of the Land Rover at the bar stunned Roger. He hadn't called Benny, Collins must have.

Benny didn't say much, except the words that Roger didn't expect to hear.

"Get in; we're going to the theater," Benny said, "It'll get you there faster than the subway, guys."

Mark nodded. Woodenly he got in the car, Roger and Collins following. Collins put a hand on Mark's shoulder while Roger watched the scenery go by. The silence seemed to be helping.

"She's going to be okay, Mark," Benny said, "You've not been able to reach her?"

"No," Mark said softly, "I tried every number I know."

"The news report said that another ballerina found her," Roger added, "You know Mary, she might be that one."

Mark nodded. While he appreciated his friends support, his mind was reeling. He could still feel her in his arms from the morning, he could still smell her hair, and he couldn't or wouldn't let himself think that she was gone. He had started to shake, hoping that the car would go faster.

"I would love to know how you met her," Benny started, "Allison has seen her dance before, said she was amazing."

"Is," Mark said, his voice a near bark, "She's not dead, Benny."

"I didn't mean that," Benny sighed, "Sorry."

The car pulled up on Broadway, three blocks from the theater. Mark remembered the area well; he had shot film of the ballerinas from here. As the Land Rover stopped in traffic, Mark opened the door and bolted out, jaywalking till he reached the sidewalk and then bolted into a dead run.

He was at the police tape in minutes, not hearing the voices of Roger and Collins for him to wait so that they could catch up to him. Mark found himself nearly hyperventilating by the time he reached the tape, the lack of air and the sore muscles that screamed at him wouldn't allow him to talk.

The police officer manning the tape looked at him. He recognized him from Buzzline.

"Nothing to see here, Mister," the officer glared at him, "You can take your camera crew and go up to the front of the theater."

Roger put a hand on Mark's shoulder while he tried to catch his breath. Collins had his breath and felt more like the diplomat then Roger did.

"He's looking for a ballerina, Officer, not a story," Collins added, "His girlfriend, Mary Blaine. She dances here."

The officer stepped forward and lifted the tape.

"You three, under here now," he said, pulling the mike to his radio, "Jeff, we got people here for Mary Blaine. It's that Mark Cohen guy from Buzzline."

For the first time, ever,Mark was grateful that the job gave him that level of recognition.

"Let them through, Mike," the voice came back, "I'll meet them at the front of the theater."

Mark started shaking uncontrollably as he found himself able to talk.

"Shit," he said, "Roger, what if…"

"I thought we agreed not to think that," Roger said, "Come on Mark; let's find out what's going on."

Roger took one of Mark's arms while Collins took the other. While he wouldn't admit it, the support was just what he needed. He was very lost.

The officer met them at the front of the theater. The banner for Nutcracker floated in the wind as Mark heard the officer ask for his name and ID. Mark pulled it from his coat and looked at Roger.

"Come with me, all of you," Officer Palmer, the voice Roger recognized as Jeff from earlier, "You Ok Mr. Cohen?"

Mark nodded. The officer lead them past the investigation, the blood on the floor of theater an indication of where the murder had taken place, the pictures of a crime scene being taken, the ballerinas that called the school home huddled in a corner crying. It was a horrible scene, one that would be imbedded in Mark's memory for the rest of his life.

The officer kept him walking into a series of offices that lead from the main entrance. He stopped at one door, knocked, and when it opened, Mark found the ability to breathe again. Mary was at the window, her back to them, staring out into space. Roger and Collins stepped into the room, holding Mark back slightly, as the officer looked at Roger.

"She's been asking for him," He said softly, "She found the body."

'Shit,' Roger thought to himself.

Collins' look sympathy extended to the woman who looked blankly out the window.

"Mary?" Mark asked softly.

She turned to him, sobbing and collapsed in his open arms.

* * *

When Mary came to, Mark was there, holding her in his arms, Collins, Roger and Benny sitting on the other side of the room. She had curled up in Mark's lap.A medic had checked her, determining her healthy, but telling Roger to make sure that she wasn't alone tonight. Mark sat with her, silent but gently rocking her as she started to cry again. He was working solely on instinct.

"Shh, it's going to be okay," he said, able to find his voice and gently wiping the tears that had formed in his own eyes, "You're okay Mary."

He kissed the top of her head and rocked her. She was gathering herself together, trying to speak, but the words didn't come out.

"Thanks for coming," she finally said, "I didn't know who to call, they wouldn't let me use a phone, and I was a little too hysterical."

"I came as soon as Roger told me," Mark said, "I thought that…"

"I thought you might think that," Mary admitted, taking a swipe at the tears that rolled down her face still, "I'm so sorry that had to happen to you, Mark."

"Hey, you're okay," Mark smiled, "That's what matters now."

"The cops still want to talk to me," Mary said, "They said something about questioning me."

"That's pretty normal in this situation," Collins said, "You found her, therefore you might have some of the answers that they are looking for. Did you know her Mary?"

Mary was so upset earlier, she didn't even realize that there were other people in the room.

"Yes, she's I mean was, my roommate," she replied, her voice catching as she changed the tense, "Thank you guys for coming. You must be Benny."

"Benjamin Coffin the Third in the flesh," Benny replied, "Sorry we had to meet this way."

"Me too," Mary said, "This just sucks all the way around, doesn't it."

Mark laughed. In the few weeks that he had grown to know Mary, she had a great way of putting a situation in crystal clear clarity.

"Mary, you have an attorney or something?" Collins asked, "Because I never speak to cops unless I have one."

"No," Mary replied, "Should I?"

Benny, Collins and Roger all nodded. Mark knew what they were thinking but also knew she would be there in a flash.

"I'll make the call," Collins offered, "She's still at the same office, right Mark?"

"Yeah, she is," Mark replied, "Tell her, well, tell her everything."

Mary followed the conversation but looked confused.

"Who are you calling?" she asked.

"My ex's girlfriend, Joanne," Mark replied, "She's an attorney."


	7. Chapter 7

Death of a Muse

Legal Disclaimer-To own is to worry about copyright. To write fanfic is work out a creative jones. Thanks to the Larson family for fighting to get this on the big screen. The fan fiction is flattery. Nothing more.

Author's Note-Nah. I'm not that evil. Just thought a little drama wouldn't hurt. Also gives a little more insight into Mary. Oh, yes, I know, how did Benny...it's answered here. Sweetie Pie-this isn't the chapter to dedicate to you…I have one coming that will make a hell of a lot more sense and be more appropriate. Oh, btw, in later chapters, I will be upping the rating; it's going to get a little more mature. Hope you all like it. And as I always say-Read and Review. It keeps my mind going, like the energizer bunny.

* * *

It took about an hour for Joanne to arrive and during that time, Mark tried to get Mary to calm down. The woman in his arms had stopped weeping, but it was obvious that she was still very upset. Roger, Collins and Benny had left them alone, knowing that she might want to talk to Mark and not feel overwhelmed by their presence in the room.

They wound up on a bench outside, in silence, till Roger broke it.

"How did you know that Mark was dating?" he asked, his voice cool of emotion, "I know you're not talking to Mimi anymore, so how?"

"Maureen," Benny answered after a moment, "When Mark introduced her to you guys yesterday, she called me on her way home. She was upset, but told me that she was impressed. The girl's got spunk."

Collins smiled. This was the Benny he remembered. Maureen calling him meant a lot as well, she and Joanne were good about making sure he knew what the others were doing. Mark had tried to keep in touch with Benny, but after the falling out that he and Roger had when Mimi cleaned up her drug habit, he knew it would take some time for them to all be the good friends they once were.

Joanne Jefferson's arrival made the conversation stop. She wasn't alone. Maureen was in tow, heading down the hallway, looking very upset and businesslike.

"Where is she?" Maureen asked as Roger met them, "Is she okay? Is Mark with her?"

"She's in the back office, Mark is with her and she seems okay," Roger answered, walking with them, "Thank you, Joanne, by the way, and she found the body."

"Damn," Joanne said, stopping at the bench the three men shared, "She has an alibi?"

"Yeah, us," Roger replied, "She spent the night at the loft. We'll vouch for her."

"Okay, so this one is easy," Joanne said, "I'll have Mark come out to you guys, she has to speak to me alone."

"Go carefully, she's pretty messed up," Collins suggested.

"Always," Joanne said, knocking then walking into the office.

Moments later, Mark walked out to join them. He looked pale, sad, and had tear stains all over his clothing.

"How's our girl doing?" Collins asked, watching Mark's eyes as he approached.

"Better, I think," Mark replied, taking a seat, "I want to thank you guys for the help. She's much calmer."

"Tragic situation," Benny said, "The woman was her roommate?"

"Yeah," Mark replied, "From what she told me, she had boyfriend issues and Mary thought she might be getting stalked. That's why she approached me originally. She thought I might be Erin's ex-boyfriend."

"The cops know this?" Roger asked quickly.

"Yeah, she told them, then fell apart, she had asked for me but they couldn't get an answer at the loft, we were already on the way here," Mark's reply was followed by a deep sigh, "Mimi left for work when, a few hours ago?"

Roger took a moment. Mimi had picked up a second job at a bookstore for Christmas. Her idea was to actually take her and Roger on a vacation to Florida. They didn't talk about it much, but he knew she liked the quiet pace of the bookstore as well.

"Yeah, she should have, I need to call there, let her know what happened," Roger said, pulling another quarter from his jeans pocket, "I'll be right back."

Maureen took Mark's hand. He looked at her as she smiled.

"She's a beautiful woman, Mark," she said, as her eyes grew a bit sad, "I'm happy you're dating again, but, I must admit I am little sad."

Mark tried not to smile back. Maureen's admission was unexpected, but he knew she was happy for him. She was never one to hold back words.

"You have Joanne, and I finally have someone, Mo," Mark replied, "Seize this moment."

Maureen laughed. He was right.

"You're right," she agreed, "Now to get her out of this mess, the cops probably want her to stay elsewhere tonight."

"I thought I would ask her if she wanted to stay with us," Mark said as Roger came back, "Mimi okay?"

"Sends her concern and worry to Mary," Roger said, "She also is worried about you. You asking her to stay with us tonight?"

"Yeah," Mark replied, "I know that she left stuff in her room, should I go and get it?"

Joanne appeared at the doorway.

"Maureen? Can you go to Mary's room and pack her some things for a few days? " she began, "She can't go back to her dorm. The cops want it locked down. They're going to send an officer with you."

A young cop came down the hallway as if on cue. Joanne gave him a protective once over and looked at Collins.

"You mind going with her, Collins?" Joanne asked.

"Sure, no problem," Collins replied, getting up.

"Mark, you can come back in here," Joanne said, "Mary's asking for you."

Mark nodded and headed back in.

"Don't fight," he muttered to Roger as he realized that left him and Benny alone.

Roger gave him a half grin and sat down.

"Mimi's working two jobs?" Benny asked.

"Her choice," Roger replied, "We're doing okay, but she wanted us to take a vacation. I'm doing pretty well with the band."

"I heard," Benny continued, "Dammit, I don't want us to keep fighting, Roger. I miss you guys."

"Mark, Collins and me, or Mimi?" Roger asked bluntly.

"All of you," Benny sighed, "Allison is a wonderful woman, but she doesn't have the experiences that all of you lived through. I'm a bit bored, I hate to admit. She doesn't know what it's like to be hungry, creative, or so busy that time flies."

Roger looked at Benny with new eyes.

"You miss us," Roger smiled, "Good."

"Jesus, I'm sorry," Benny laughed, "I won't go near Mimi. It's complicated, I know, but I won't go near her, because she's yours. She's my friend, Roger, but I won't go near her if that makes you a little less jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Roger replied, "You have to look at it this way, what if you met Muffy's …"

"Allison," Benny's interruption was automatic.

"Allison's ex and she was happy to see him," Roger continued, "That's my issue. You guys have a history. It's hard for me to see her eyes change when she looks at you."

"She never looked at me the way she looks at you," Benny replied, "She lovesYOU, man. I'm the one who could have been, she loves you."

Roger stopped for a second. Benny's admitting this was something he didn't expect.

"I'm sorry then," Roger said, "We should be friends. You have to stop turning the heat off though."

"It's not me, I swear," Benny glared, "The power company is being a bunch of asses."

"Fight the man, Benny, you always were good at that," Roger smirked.

Benny laughed. Roger was right. It was good to have the tension between them lifting. Someday it wouldn't be there, but they were at least trying.

The door to the office opened, and Mark, Mary, the detectives and Joanne came out. Joanne shook the detective's hands as Mark pulled Mary closer to him. He put an arm around her protectively, as the detectives headed back toward the scene. Her eyes met Roger's. It wasn't hard to see that she was emotionally drained, her dark eyes making him sad. It was hard to believe that only 24 hours ago the same face was full of joy and life.

"Thank you for coming down here, guys," Mary's voice very soft, "Mark's lucky to have friends like you."

"He's lucky to have friends like you, Mary," Roger replied, "You're okay. Don't forget that."

"And the detectives cleared you, don't forget that," Mark replied, "thank you again Joanne."

"My pleasure," Joanne smiled, "Maureen showed me the tickets, and I can't wait to see you dance."

"Thank you," Mary replied, hugging the woman, "I don't know what I could have done without you."

"My bill is a ticket to your next performance," Joanne smiled, "Besides, it's good to see Mark so happy."

Mary, anxious to turn the conversation away from herself smirked at his rapidly growing blush.

"What's the deal, you not get out much?" she asked.

"Nah," Mark laughed, "I get a little into my work."

"I've seen," Mary replied quickly, "They told me that rehearsal will be tonight. I don't know how I can do it. Erin and I would…"

Roger stood up and looked at her. He could see her starting to break down. Mark squeezed her hand. Benny put a hand on her shoulder.

"You can and will, one of us will go with you," he said, "Mary, you have friends and we're here for you."

"Amen to that," Benny replied.

"Wait a second, you guys are talking?" Mark asked, watching Benny and Roger look at each other, "Miracles do happen."

"Wow," Joanne teased, "Time to call the press, wait a second Mark, you are the press."

"Camera's at home," Mark replied, "Benny, can I ask you a for a ride home when all this is over?"

"Of course," Benny answered, "They should be back any second."

Mary looked down the hall toward the cops. Maureen and Collins were heading down the hallway, carrying a small bag and a suitcase. Mary took a second to wonder how they knew what stuff belonged to her, and then she remembered her labeling system. They were good friends to her as well.

"I think we got all your stuff," Maureen said, watching Mary's reaction, "You know that the front is full of press."

"The theater's going to make a statement. I don't want to be here for that," Mary said, "They are talking about canceling the opening of Nutcracker. I don't think Erin would have wanted that, but they haven't made up their minds yet."

Collins eyes met hers.

"You going to be okay sweetheart?" he asked.

"I hope so; can we get out of here?" Mary asked Joanne, "They are done with me, right?"

"Yes, they are, and you're at Mark and Roger's if they need you, right?" she asked.

Mark nodded. Mary took her bags from Maureen and Collins, kissed Collins on the cheek as Maureen hugged her. Mark's eyes met Maureen's. He was stunned to see her compassion, but her look of utter sympathy toward Mary's situation was compelling. His look said thank you, hers the instant reply of your welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

Death of a Muse

Legal Disclaimer-As stated before, the characters here, other than Mary Blaine, belong to Jonathan Larson's estate. No money is made here, just an artistic jones getting burned off.

Authors Note-So, this one's gonna get interesting. Everyone seems to want to know what is with Mary. She's well-check out the last line. That should answer the question. This chapter is an M, my children, due to the situations. Sweetie Pie, that is what I was getting at, so here you go. This one is dedicated to you. Review please.

* * *

Mary Blaine stirred in her sleep. She still felt the joy of meeting a wonderful man, and wanting to share the information with Erin, her roommate at the American Ballet Theater. Mark felt her stir, and gently put his arms around her. She hadn't said much since she got home. Collins had found some whisky, gave it to her, and then ran off to his apartment, ready to get his clothes and make the return trip to the loft.

She had fallen asleep on the couch, Roger keeping an eye on her. He knew the pain that she had gone through, he had found April. He knew what it was like not to just lose a good friend, but he hoped that she wouldn't experience the pain that he went through.

She hadn't said much, barely ate any of the food that Mark had made her, and was just simply quiet. It was scary that she was that quiet. Roger reminded Mark before he left to play with the band that the medic told him that she would act like this, he also reminded him that she had gone through a large amount of trauma.

Mimi had left for work as well, she had spent a little time with Mary, trying to get her to drink some tea and putting an arm around when she did cry. It helped to have another female there to help her, but Mary had stayed quiet.

When she fell asleep, Mark found himself sitting on the couch watching her. He pushed hair out of her face, gently, treating her like she was a porcelain doll. The second she started stirring, in the grips of what looked like a nightmare, he moved in next to her, gathering her in his arms.

She found herself waking to the semi-darkness of the loft, wondering first where she was, secondly wondering what had happened to her. The sickening reality hit her. Erin was dead. She held back a sob and snuggled closer to Mark. She realized that he had gathered her in his arms on the couch a few moments before she woke up, and she knew that if she stayed asleep, she would have a few more moments of peace before she had to face the reality of what had happened.

"Mary, honey?" Mark asked softly, "You awake?"

"Yeah," she muttered, "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour," he replied, "You mind me here?"

"No, stay here, please," her voice was small, "I need this more than you know."

"I know, Mary, I do," Mark said, snuggling in a little closer, "You know I'm here for you, whatever happens."

"I know that Mark," Mary said, "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Mark blushed. She was wrong, it was the other way around, he loved her.

"Same here," Mark sighed, stroking her hair, "Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"There's not much to say, she was my friend, she had a horrible boyfriend," Mary shifted so that she was resting her head on the crook of Mark's neck, her gaze out the window, "He killed her."

"We don't know that for sure," Mark said, "You have to let the cops do their job."

"I have had too many friends change their lives because of their boyfriends or their health Mark," Mary said, "It fucking sucks."

Mark laughed, it was the first time he had ever heard Mary curse.

"What, you didn't think I knew how to say that?" Mary asked, "Mark, I'm not that innocent."

"I know, just never thought I would hear fucking come out of your mouth," Mark sat up slightly, neck muscles screaming in pain, "You don't seem the type to curse."

"Dancers curse like sailors, Mark," Mary sat up with him, "Life fucking sucks right now, let me curse."

"Go for it," Mark said, "Use every word you got, missy, between listening to Maureen, Roger and Collins, I got you beat."

Mary used every curse she could think of for a few minutes, then looked at Mark.

"Feel better?" Mark asked simply.

"Yes," Mary replied, a slight smile growing on her face.

She gently pulled away from Mark and sat up. He did have a way of making her feel better when she felt like absolute hell. He shifted, sat up and put an arm around her.

"Collins is going to be here in a few minutes," he said, "He's going to be sleeping on the couch."

"Yeah, he told me that," Mary replied, "He's getting his apartment fumigated?"

"Yes, he is," Mark replied, "You can still sleep in my bed."

"Thanks," Mary looked into Mark's eyes, "No strings?"

"No," Mark said, "Unless you …"

"No," Mary's voice was soft, as she watched Mark's reaction.

He was a little stunned, but he realized there was something more behind her statement.

"Mark, don't take it that way," Mary said, "I don't sleep with just anyone. And I'm not saying that you and I aren't feeling something. I do care for you. I just can't…"

She was having a hard time putting the words in sentences. She turned from him and looked out the window.

Mark nodded. Something else was there and she couldn't say it. It was time that he did.

"You figure out yet that I am in love with you?" Mark admitted.

"What?" Mary asked.

"I'm in love with you Mary Blaine," Mark said, getting up, "I know that might be hard for you to get, seeing how we only have known each other for about 3 weeks. I knew it the second I laid eyes on you."

"Oh, Mark," Mary replied, "I love you too."

"You do?" Mark was happy.

"Yes, I do," Mary replied, "You and I have been all over this city, seeing it at its best and brightest, and all I can think of is how cool it is to see it from your eyes. You don't know what you're doing to me."

"Me?" Mark turned to face her, "You are in my every thought. When I heard today that a ballerina was murdered, I thought it was you. I literally shook with fear as we traveled to the theater. Roger had to keep me as calm as possible before we got there. When I saw you in the office I was so relieved yet so shocked by your appearance. Mary, how can I help you through this? You look so lost. I love you baby, and I want to help."

Mary stopped. Mark had bared his soul to her. She stood up, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. Breaking the kiss, she looked into his eyes. It was time she bared hers.

"I'm not lost," she said, "I'm a virgin."


	9. Chapter 9

Death of a Muse

Legal Disclaimer-The following characters belong to the estate of Jonathan Larson. I wish no monetary gain, just the opportunity to put this out there before my mind explodes.

Author's Note-All of you, rock. Truly, all of you do. Mark Caplan's Wife-Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging. Sweetie Pie-You see, I did get my flow back. Penta-Well, the reasons are in here, I think they make sense. Please let me know what you think. Yes, there is talk of sex in here, if you're under 13 and reading this, don't be. Thank You.

* * *

Chapter 9

Mark tried desperately not to show his utter shock at her admission. Her sexual status didn't matter one bit, but still it was shocking. For her to openly admit it proved she trusted him, but she was guarded about it.

"What?" he asked stunned.

"Don't you dare make fun of me, Mark," Mary said, "I'm a virgin."

"You're kidding," Mark said, and watched as her face fell, "No, you aren't."

Mary shook her head and broke his gaze. She turned from him and went to stare out the window. She turned back to him.

"It's not such a foreign concept, is it?" she said, "I dance maybe 8-10 hours a day. I go to class, then bed. I barely eat, and I barely have time for a social life. I have been this way since I was about 14. Going around with you to find Christmas stuff is the first time I actually saw the city outside of the rehearsal hall and home. That's my routine and my life. I gave my soul to the dance."

"It's not a foreign concept, I don't know if I should be stunned, or applauding," Mark replied, "You're the first one I have met since high school. It's very surprising, that's all."

"Between my work schedule, my over bearing mother, and having several of my early ballet friends die from AIDS, Mark, it's pretty simple," Mary turned to look at him, "I have also been pretty damn terrified, the thought of merely falling in love with someone and getting intimate can kill you definitely kills the mood. No sex keeps you alive."

"You don't think that I?" Mark had to sit down, this was getting upsetting, "I'm not positive or exposed. I keep getting my blood tested though. I'm ok."

"Yeah, and so am I," Mary said, "Dance has kept me committed to staying as clean as I can. I thought I had lost myself in the dance till I met you, Mark, don't you get it?"

"So, you're scared?" Mark asked.

"Freaking terrified, " Mary admitted, looking back out the window, " To death."

The knock at the door ended the conversation. Collins had arrived with his stuff.

* * *

Mark edited while Mary slept. She had left them wordlessly, kissing Mark on the cheek and heading for bed as Mark helped Collins fix up the couch for sleeping. Mark tried very carefully not to make too much noise as the other residents of the loft came home, only rolling film and editing, not running the moviola, it's noise a sure alarm for the folks trying to escape into slumber. 

Mimi had beaten Roger home as Mark yawned. She had talked to him for a little while, asking how Mary was doing and offering to talk to her in the morning if it helped. Mark was grateful for her offer of help and knew it would eventually help Mary. Mimi then went off to bed; beat from her night at the Cat Scratch.

It was nearly two am as he turned off the light to his editing box and listened to the soft snores of Collins. The door opened as Roger came home, glanced at Mark and quietly signaled at him to meet him on the fire escape. Mark obliged, grabbing his coat and heading out.

"How's Mary doing?" Roger asked, "She ever get to sleep?"

"She's sleeping now," Mark said, "She's really freaked out. I don't know what to tell her or how to help her."

"Mark, I found April, remember?" Roger said softly, "She's in hell right now. Just love her for who she is. She knows it's not her fault, but it still hurts."

"I do," Mark said, "I told her that tonight."

Roger smiled. It was good to hear his friend had finally done the unexpected.

"Good for you," Roger replied, but he studied the worried look on Mark's face, "What happened? Oh god, she doesn't feel the same way."

"No, it's not that, it's not that at all," Mark said, "She wants to take it slow."

"Slow? How slow?" Roger said, "You guys make a great couple."

"Great, more like pathetic," Mark said, "We're both workaholics who don't know how to live outside our art."

"Wait a second, this morning you were all about supporting her wishes to go into seclusion until after opening night," Roger said, "What the hell happened?"

Mark realized that he was about to destroy her trust in him if he revealed what she had said. Roger could be trusted. This he knew. Mary would understand too, Roger was the one he could tell these secrets to.

"You won't believe me if I tell you," Mark said, "But I think our relationship just took an interesting turn."

Roger looked at him. Mark hadn't seemed this detached since Maureen told him she liked women.

"Ah, hell, she's gay," Roger said, putting an arm on Mark's shoulder, "Damn lightning striking twice. She's such a great girl Mark that is just so wrong…"

"Lightning didn't strike twice, Rog," Mark replied, "It's not that."

"And there's nothing wrong with her being gay," Roger continued, "Hell, Maureen and Joanne can fix her up with some of their friends, she can still be part of our circle and…"

"Roger, she's not a lesbian," Mark said again, this time a little louder, "She is definitely not gay."

"Okay then, what is it?" Roger asked, "I know this look, Cohen, you're way too gone for it not to be."

"She's a virgin, okay?" Mark admitted.

Roger stepped back. Mary a virgin. Now, this was interesting. Mark's reaction was unexpected. Mary had sent him reeling. Roger was a mixture of surprised, relived and impressed. A woman that beautiful who was obviously saving herself for just the right person was a rare jewel in this city, let alone the world as he knew it today. She probably had her reasons, it didn't seem like they had sunk in with Mark, and his best friend literally didn't know what to do.

"Let her be about it," Roger said, "It's obvious that she loves and trusts you, Mark. Otherwise, she never would have told you about it."

"Yeah, I was thinking that," Mark replied, "I just don't know how to tell her it doesn't really matter."

"You're willing to wait?" Roger looked at him, shocked, "You really do love her, don't you."

"I'm pretty much toast, aren't I?" Mark laughed, "You know, the minute she started yelling at me for shooting the girls walking down the street, I knew that she was something special."

"She's even more special now than you knew," Roger said, "A virgin. Who would have thought it? Dancers aren't the type to have not, you know."

"She said it's her schedule. She didn't stick to it for the first time in ten years when she met me. I got her to see life differently," Mark said, "Roger, I don't have a clue of where to go with this. I love her so much. It actually hurts to see her in so much pain."

"Don't hurt her," Roger said, "You would be a bastard to pressure her. She needs time and space. The problem is her space is under lock and key. Did they ever find that ex-boyfriend of her roommate?"

"She's supposed to call about that in the morning," Mark replied, "She's been having nightmares about that as well. She did sleep for a little while when you left to go play with the band."

"The nightmares are normal, Mark," Roger dug in his pockets for the cigarettes he knew were there, "You remember I had plenty after April."

Mark nodded. Mary's arrival in their lives had Roger talking about April and for the first time he wasn't heartbroken or bitter about it. It was good to see.

"Give her space, Mark," Roger suggested, "She loves you. You can't ask for more."

"I will," Mark said, "Thanks."

Roger smiled. It was great to offer his friend advice for once. Mark had carried the burden for a very long time. Mark was also shivering, it was cold outside.

"You get some sleep, k?" Roger continued, "She's going to need you more the next few days, she won't admit it, but she will need you."

"Yeah, I should try and sleep," Mark said, climbing back in, "Thanks Roger."

"You're welcome," Roger said, following him, "See you in the morning."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Legal disclaimer-The following characters, other than Mary Blaine belong to Jonathan Larson's estate. I hold no legal claim to them.

Author's Note-Whew. I'm glad you all are still with me. Dennis Shaw, I think I know you from somewhere…thanks for the comment. My usual reviewers, I love you all. Sweetie-what can I say, thank you. Let me know what you think, Read and Review.

* * *

When the morning dawned, Mark was unconscious. The stress of the day before had caught up with him, sleep had demanded his attention and had won. Mary left him sleeping, gently kissing him on the forehead and pulling the down comforter up around him. He had snuggled into it, taking her pillow as she moved from the bed.

She took a moment, watched him, and then gathered her clothes for the day, heading out of the room so she wouldn't disturb him.

In the main room of the loft, she smelled coffee, eggs and found Collins and Roger talking. They stopped as she approached, Roger mirroring her actions of the morning before, handing her a coffee mug filled with the steaming brew.

"Bless you," she said, taking the mug from him, "And good morning."

"Good morning to you," Collins replied, kissed her on the cheek, "You have rehearsal this morning?"

"Yeah, full run-through, followed by full dress," she said, yawning, "I hope to hell the press aren't there. I just want to dance."

"You want someone to go with you? Get you through the press if you need it?" Roger offered.

"You know something, yes, I would like that," Mary replied, downing her coffee, "You okay with it? I thought you had rehearsal of your own to go to?"

"Actually, that's this afternoon, and I offered, Mary," Roger said, "Let me do this for you. I can do the punk bodyguard type thing."

Collins laughed. While Roger talked a good game, he knew that the smaller man could run faster than he could when chased. He did throw a good punch though.

"How about Roger takes you down there, and I meet you guys for the walk back?" Collins offered, handing Mary his scrambled eggs, "Eat. I made these for you."

Mary smiled. It was nice to be a place of friendly people. The ballerinas at the dorms were like sisters, but they had a tendency to drive each other crazy. She ate the eggs quickly, realizing that she had very little time to get moving.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Roger and Mary sat on the subway, like all the other New Yorkers, heading downtown. Mary had donned her coat, ballet bag, and cotton hat to keep the winter chill out, while Roger had his own scarf tied around his neck.

"You okay, Mary?" he asked

"Yeah, I'm okay," she said, looking back at him, "So much has happened in the past two days it's a little overwhelming."

"Had a feeling, you're dealing with it well though, did you get any sleep?" he asked, watching her reactions.

She frowned. She hadn't sleep well, it helped when Mark finally crawled into bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had curled up with him, sharing the body warmth and knowing that he loved her, but the closeness had scared her. Roger's reaction had her puzzled though. Had he and Mark talked?

"A little," she said, "Helped when Mark finally crashed, he was beat. He didn't even move when I got up this morning."

"He tends to do that, he was editing when I got in this morning," Roger replied, "He's really worried about you."

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn fortunate to have him around," Mary said, "I know he's worried. I just can't put this all into words, you know?"

"Scared?" Roger asked softly, "I saw you yesterday. And I know how it is. You are walking into a place that seems like home but right now isn't?"

Mary nodded. She was scared. Finding Erin's body had scared her, angered her, warned her and terrified her. She had no clue what to do when she got to rehearsal and realized her friend wasn't going to be there ever again. It hurt too much to think about it.

They traveled in silence for a few minutes then Roger gently placed his hand in hers. Mary looked at him shocked.

"About two and a half years ago," he began quietly, "I found my girlfriend after she committed suicide. She had her blood test come back positive. In her note she said she didn't want to live like this."

Roger's admission was low, only audible to her.

"I had a very hard time believing she was dead at first," he continued, "She and I both used heavily, turns out one of the needles wasn't clean, and here we are. She's gone, because she couldn't handle it. Me, on the other hand, had Mark Cohen in my corner, making sure that I didn't end my life right then and there. He's one of the reasons that I am still here today, Mary. He dragged me kicking and screaming into rehab. He won't admit it, but he saved my life and he's trying to save yours."

Mary breathed in. That was the only thing she could do after so powerful an admission by Roger. He was right, Mark was valiantly trying to help her, and he was doing a great job, but the exhausted look on his face this morning had made her want to run away from him, not from fear, but to make sure that he lived his life as well. It was so confusing.

The subway drew up to a stop.

"Broadway, here we come," Roger said softly, "You okay, Mary?"

Mary nodded, gathering her stuff and quickly heading off the subway, Roger following her.

"Mary, can you answer me?" Roger asked again, following her, "Are you okay?"

Mary turned. The look Roger gave her spoke volumes. She was shaking, fear finally overtaking her. He put an arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay to be alive, Mary," Roger said softly, walking with her.

"I know, I know," Mary said, "It's just so hard. It used to be that all I did was hang out with the girls and dance. That's it. Then I saw Mark with his camera, and had to know what he was doing. Then it all changed. Why does life have to be so damn hard?"

"That I know," Roger said, "Nothing in this life is ever easy."

* * *

After making their way into the rehearsal hall, Roger Davis sat in the back of the theater and watched his best friend's girlfriend practice the Nutcracker. She was an amazing ballerina. Not only was her part a featured part of the ballet, she had a way of getting attention when she danced. She simply moved. The rest seemed to come naturally.

Mary had arranged his being able to stay by explaining to the instructors that he was staying with her to keep her calm and steady. The director, knowing Mary's situation was indulgent, inviting Roger to sit with him, but Roger declined, explaining that he would rather see it in the back of the theater.

From his vantage point, it was fantastic. The colors, the costumes, the music rolling through the theater were a visual treat. It didn't matter to him that not all the lights were perfect, if you closed your eyes at certain parts, it made it work.

While they waited for a stage reset, Mary waved at Roger to come down and join her. She was dressed in her usual rehearsal outfit, black leotard, pink tights and toe shoes. The full dress for Nutcracker was going to have her in an exquisite costume, but Mary wanted Roger to see how intense the stage was from her angle. His hand in hers she walked across the stage on her toes, showing Roger the 1500 seat theater from her point of view.

Roger was thrilled to see it from that angle. He dreamed of playing those size theaters with the band, his imagination filling the empty seats. He turned to look at Mary, who on her toes was actually taller than he was.

"That looks like it hurts," he said as they walked off the stage, Mary still on her toes.

"After a while it doesn't hurt anymore," she said, "You like all of this?"

"Yeah, I do," Roger smiled as she stood regularly, "I cannot wait until tomorrow night. It's going to be magical."

"As magical as the ABT can make it," she replied, popping her toes on the stage, "I'm very glad you came down here, Roger. Thank you for being my escort today."

"You're welcome Mary,'" Roger noticed a bit of light coming back into her eyes, "I can see you're feeling better."

"Yeah, I am," she said, "Let me get into a groove here, you have to go rehearse, don't you?"

Roger looked at his pager. She was right.

"You okay without me?" he asked.

She gave him a hug as the director started calling names for places.

"Yes, now go," Mary said, "I'll see you tonight."

Roger grabbed his jacket and left. He watched her on the stage as she ran across to take places. Mark was a lucky man, she was beautiful. While Mark was content behind the camera, Mary had the same content look when she was onstage. Roger hoped and prayed that she could be that calm again.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Legal Disclaimer- Old Fanficiton writers trick-there's no money to be made here. Characters are owned by others, move along, move along.

Authors Note- A little fluff, a little foreshadowing, and you asked for it…CHANG!

Now, the usual. Please review. I love reviews, they keep me writing. My usual reviewers, I love you guys. My new ones, I love you too!

Thanks!

* * *

Tom Collins sat on the bench outside the theater, grateful that the janitor let him in. It was cold outside, cold enough for a snowstorm, which Collins feared for their trip home. The recent making up with Benny had helped them fix the hole in the loft's skylight, but it was still a pretty damn cold place to sleep once it snowed.

He was waiting for Mary, who still had one last scene to finish before the director could release her. Collins had seen her briefly, her makeup and full costume a sight that he would never forget. Angel would have done it better, but the theatrics they were going for were a little too mild for her taste.

Angel. He had thought of her often and actually mused on how she would like Mary. She would love her not just for the girl's spunkiness, but for how she made Mark so goddamn happy. The boy had offered to come down with him when he finally woke up, but Collins insisted, mentioning that Mark did have to finish the project for Buzzline if they hoped to have heat for January.

Mark agreed reluctantly, knowing how Mary would love to see him, but Collins did remind him that she had to work and with him there, she might be tempted to break early. With him there, she could finish what she needed to then go to the dinner he had planned for all of them at the Life Café.

Collins saw her in the hallway of the theater, talking to an older man in an overcoat, who handed her a card. She looked like she thanked him and headed out.

Mary came out of the theater, changed, in her long black coat, ready to go. She was overjoyed to see Collins. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

"What did that guy want?" Collins asked.

"Detective, wanted to ask me if I knew what Erin's boyfriend looked like, they don't have any pictures of him, since she broke up with him and threw them all out," Mary replied, "I never really met him, just saw him at a distance."

"He gave you his card?" Collins continued.

"Yeah, his name is Lenny Briscoe, told me to call him if I remembered anything about him," Mary replied, "Nice guy."

"Nice to know some cops can be good, You get it all out?" he asked as they headed to the door.

"Yeah," she smiled, "Thanks for coming down to meet me."

"You're welcome," Collins said, "I'm buying you dinner at the Life. Mark's gotta finish his project, and I think you could use some time away from the loft."

"As long as we keep it short," Mary said, "I have got to get some sleep tonight. They want us in early for opening night."

"I know," Collins said, "That's pretty usual, isn't it?"

"Yep," Mary said as they walked to the subway.

She turned to see the lights of Broadway starting. They were amazing to watch.

"Wow," she said, "I never really stopped to see how amazing that really is."

Collins smiled. He watched her reaction to the sight, the lights all starting up with their pretty glow.

"You're gonna be alright, Mary," he said, "This I am not worried about."

"God, I hope so, I'm pretty nervous about tomorrow," she began as they headed down the stairs, "I keep thinking I'm going to miss a point, leap the wrong direction, or fall."

"If you keep thinking it, it's gonna happen, so don't think it, just do it," Collins quoted.

"Who said that?" Mary asked, looking up at him, "Nike?"

"No," Collins laughed, "Angel said it."

"I wish I could have met her," Mary said, "I think we would have gotten along."

"I think she would have loved you," Collins replied wistfully.

* * *

Collins had given Mark time to stop at the café. He purposely made it earlier than the rest of the group, knowing how Mark gets when he edits. He also made sure that Mary got to meet someone who he knew she would love to meet. Chang.

Collins met Charles Chang when he came into his class to deliver Chinese food to one of his students. Their eyes met and that was that. Chang was very closeted to his family, who thought he should marry a pretty Chinese girl, have many children and work the restaurant. Chang had other plans. He was an art major at NYU with fashion experience and an idea of running from his families expectations. Collins helped him with that, but knew that he was fighting a family at the same time.

Chang's brothers and sisters knew he was gay, supported him, but never told the parents. They didn't need to know. It might just kill them. Collins respected the family decision, but it did hurt not to be included in Chang's family's celebrations. That's why he made sure that his time with his "loft" family was so special. He had love to give and he was going to give it the best he could for everyone.

Mark Cohen sat at the usual tables, waiting for the gang to show up. Collins simply stated everyone should try and get together for a little dinner, to catch up and have fun. Mimi had agreed instantly, knowing that fun was just what she needed. Roger knew he would be there after rehearsal, while Joanne and Maureen would be there as well. Currently, Mark was alone, but this Asian guy just entered the place, looked around and noticed Mark.

'_Great,'_ Mark thought, _'He probably wants to take one of our chairs.'_

"Mark Cohen?" he asked, sitting across from him.

"Yeah?" Mark's replied.

"I'm Charles Chang," Chang said, looking at him with a smile, "Collins' boyfriend?"

"Holy shit, hey," Mark said, shaking his hand, "About time we met, how are you?"

"Great, any sign of Collins yet?" he asked, "He told me that he was going to pick up Mary and bring her here."

"Same thing he told me," Mark said, "its wild. I only met her two weeks ago and I feel like I have known her forever. I have to admit I'm a little jealous that Collins is picking her up. I should be."

"No, you shouldn't," Chang stated, "Collins told me her story. You need to finish your film, Mark, then, you guys can celebrate and if anyone knows how to celebrate…"

Chang's sentence was interrupted by Collins' arrival. Mary was laughing at one his jokes when they entered and she saw Mark at the table. Mark lit up, so happy to see her laughing. She smiled when she saw him, walked up to him and kissed him fiercely. Mark returned the kiss, his frame of reference only on her.

The semi-filled café applauded. Mark blushed furiously as he broke the kiss.

"So, how was your day?" she asked, laughing with the crowd.

Collins' grin made him laugh. Mark never would do anything like that in public, so it was fantastic to see him actually doing something Roger would do, have a life. Mark kissed Mary again and took her hand. She squeezed it in reply.

"Interesting, how about you, you go home again?" Mark asked softly, meaning the stage and not her actually dorm.

"Yes," Mary said as they sat down, "It was perfect. Tomorrow night is going to rock."

She looked at the Asian smiling at her.

"You must be Chang," Mary said, "Collins has told me so much about you."

Collins settled in next to Chang, gently putting an arm around him.

"Hopefully all good, Mary," Chang replied, "Thank you for inviting me tomorrow, I'm looking forward to it, I have only seen Chinese ballet and to see an American classic is one I really want to see."

"We have a great show for you, Roger got the sneak preview," Mary continued, "I'm sorry you weren't there, Mark, but I wasn't going to wake you up."

Mark sighed. It sucked when he woke up alone that morning, but Collins had told him how nervous she was so it helped that his friends took up the slack. He was rested, though, and ready to help her in any way possible. He also knew that the loft crowd was giving them both space to work on their relationship, which he had to admit was nice to say. Relationship.

'_Shit, Maureen leaving me for Joanne really did mess me up emotionally,'_ he mused.

"Earth to Mark," Mary asked, touching his shoulder, "What do you want to order?"

Mark jumped when she touched him.

"Sorry," Mark laughed, "Soup, tea, and a sandwich."

The waiter wrote it down and walked away. Ever since his Buzzline job, he at least got more respect when he came in. He could now pay. Although he did occasionally like to not pay for his tea.

"So, did you finish it?" Collins asked.

"Almost there," Mark replied, "I have to run through some more footage, then, it should be ready. I was hoping to premiere it tomorrow after the ballet, if you're up to it, Mary."

"Sure," Mary replied, "You cut all day?"

"Yeah, and some of last night," Mark said, "I'm surprised you didn't hear me. I know Collins didn't."

"Every once and a while I did," Collins answered, answering the question he knew Chang was going to ask, "The couch I'm sleeping on is in their living room."

"Sorry, it's hard to keep that moviola quiet," Mark replied, "I did try though."

"I'm not one to stand in the way of art, Mr. Filmmaker," Collins teased, "I hope this one brings you the same happiness as the last one."

Mark glanced at Mary. Their eyes met. Hers shone while his sparkled.

"Collins," Chang said, putting his hand on his thigh under the table, "I think it already has."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Legal Disclaimer-The characters belong to Jonathan Larson's estate. Not mine. Thanks to him though, I have the creative juices following. I appreciate it.

Author's Note-Thank you. No, seriously, all of you who have reviewed and have read this know that I appreciate it. It's so much fun to do this, it's feeding my rent obsession, and this is humbly dedicated to a co-worker and serious Renthead…you know who you are..LaPadre. Warning, some naughty language here. Some violence.

Roger and Mimi stopped for a moment outside of the Life Café. They had met up after work and were going to meet the other two couples, a chance to get away and enjoy themselves in the company of friends.

"God, we have needed to do this for so long," Mimi said, as Roger drew her in close.

"I agree," Roger said, kissing her, "And we've needed to do that too."

Mimi's smile broke the kiss.

"I know, we've both been busy," she laughed, "Let's get in there, Romeo, I'm starving."

Roger kissed her again and opened the door, acting the gallant gentleman. He looked around the busy street as he did so, familiar neighborhood faces going by. One face stood out, he noted it and continued inside.

Mark waved as Mary smiled. Collins and an Asian man were sitting across from them. Collins stood up and hugged Roger, after kissing Mimi on the cheek.

"Meems, Roger, meet Charles Chang," Collins said, "The love of my life."

Chang blushed.

"Pleased to meet you guys," Chang replied, "I've heard about you guys."

"All of it good," Roger sat down at the end of the table with Mimi, "I hope."

"You know it, " Collins replied, "Now, what will you two have? It's on me."

"Collins, mi amigo," Mimi began, "We can…"

"I invited you guys, therefore I am paying," Collins insisted, "Anyway, consider it rent."

Mark took his tea from the waiter and put his hand over Mary's. She looked at him, then wrapped her fingers in his hand.

"How was your day, really?" he asked softly.

"Wonderful," Mary replied, "The freedom of getting back out on the stage and just simply dancing is something I missed."

"Even though you did it two days ago?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, I guess I'm a workaholic," Mary laughed, "Comes with the territory."

Roger leaned over to Mimi.

"They are perfect for each other," he whispered, "The only problem is work. They work too damn hard to see it."

Mimi giggled. Roger was right. Mary and Mark's dedication to their chosen professions was stunning. It was also inspiring.

"I know, mi amo, I know," she said, "They don't see it."

"Mark's beginning to," Roger said, "Aren't you."

"Aren't I what?" Mark said, distracted, "You going on about my working too much again?"

Roger smiled. Mark was good at the mind reading still.

"You'll have to excuse my roommates, Mary," Mark laughed, "They still seem to think that I make mad passionate love to my camera."

"You don't?" Collins asked in mock indignation.

The glare Mark gave him could cut diamonds.

"Ha, Ha," Mark said, blushing.

"Need I remind you Mr. Davis," Mark began, in his best Benny impersonation, "That my job pays for the roof above our collective heads."

"And need I remind you that without me and Mimi, you wouldn't have heat, or power?" Roger laughed.

"Touché," Mark replied.

"You guys always do this?" Mary asked.

"Welcome to the family," Mark laughed, "With one you get 6, oops, 7, sorry Chang."

"Not offended," Chang replied, laughing along with the group, "Nice to be included."

"Nice to include you, "Roger commented, "It took Collins a long time to bring you around."

"Thanks," Chang replied, "The bad part is that I have to go. Family calls. I will see all of you tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," Mary said, smiling, "Have a great evening."

Collins stood up.

"I'll walk you out," he said, following him, "Be back in a few guys."

As the couple left, Roger, Mimi, Mary and Mark stared at each other. The silence was good, Mark observed, it was a normal part of relationships.

"How you doing Mary?" Roger asked, "You looked like you were at home on the stage."

"Thank you," Mary smiled, "It was like home. I only had one cop waiting for me when I was done. Turns out they're looking for Erin's ex-boyfriend as the main suspect. They don't have any photos of him."

"What does he look like?" Mark asked, "If he was stalking her, maybe I have him on film?"

Mary stopped for a second. She had forgotten that he had shot the ballerinas for a while until she said hello.

"His name is Kevin, Kevin McCardle," Mary continued, "He's about six feet with long black hair. You would say that he looks like those "Black Irish" type folks. From what Erin said he was a hunk."

Mary grew distant. The fact that her roommate was dead was finally sinking in. Mark noticed her face and squeezed her hand.

"It's okay, baby," Mark said, "When we get back home, I'll look through what I have shot, you look with me."

Mary nodded. Collins came back in and looked at them.

"Hey, hey, party time, no dark moments," Collins said, "We're alive. Reason enough to celebrate."

"Amen," Mary said softly, "Thanks for reminding me Collins."

"You're welcome, Mary," Collins replied, "Now, where were we? Picking on Mark?"

Mark threw his napkin at Collins as the group erupted into laughter.

About and hour later, the five found themselves heading back to the loft. Much to Mark's chagrin, it had started to snow, and he was without film in his camera. Roger explained to Mary that Mark loved to shoot snowfalls, trying to get the white snow on the dirt that is New York City. Mary understood and tried her best to comfort Mark, Collins laughed at the scene as their peace was suddenly interrupted.

The guy was about six foot, brunette, and in one lightning stroke, had Mary in a choke hold, knife to her throat. She reacted very calmly, barely moving.

"Mister, we are so not the people to hold up," Mimi said, staring the knife down, "We don't have two nickels to rub together."

Knife holder laughed. Mary took the moment to elbow him fiercely, getting him to let her go, but he still held the knife to her back.

"I'm not here to rob you guys," he said, "I'm here to tell this dancing bitch to forget who I am."

"And you are?" Mary asked snidely, "I don't know who you are."

"Your whore of a roommate did," he continued, "I'm Kevin, you know, the guy who you think killed her."

Mary stopped. She remembered the voice on her answering machine when Kevin couldn't find Erin one night. It was him.

"You are the only one who could have," Mary's voice was calm, but her hands shook.

Mark had frozen. He was mentally drawing the picture of the scene in his head of what had happened. He knew that he would be asked by the police what he looked like. He also realized, he had him on film.

"Bullshit, that little whore was sleeping around," Kevin continued, "Can you handle it little virgin? You know that's what she called you."

"Yeah, so what?" Mary replied, the anger rising in her voice, "She told me that she envied me for it, so I didn't have to worry about deranged trash like you."

Roger and Collins gave each other a sideways look. Mark, who found himself able to think again noticed their change of position and didn't want to see what was going to happen. He just knew he would follow it the best he could.

"Me Deranged?" Kevin laughed, "That's bullshit. The little whore gave me AIDS, you know that?"

Mary took a breath. Roger took that moment for action and jumped him. As Kevin went down into the snow, Roger screamed. Collins jumped him as well, pulling the attacker up in a choke hold. Roger stayed down, his hand under his jacket. The knife laid in the snow, covered in blood. Mark pulled Mary away from the drop, pulling her close to him.

"He cut you?" Collins yelled, "Dammit, you asshole, you don't know who you just messed with, Mark, Fuck, Mark snap out of it and call the cops."

Mark ran to call the cops as Mimi knelt to help Roger. Mary started to join her as Roger's pained voice stopped her.

"Don't touch me, Mary, I'm bleeding and I don't want you exposed," he said, "Mark would kill me."

Mimi muttered soothing words in Spanish. Her hands worked on his shoulder as she got him to expose his hand to her. It was cut open badly and bleeding. She pulled her scarf from around her neck and quickly wrapped it around the bleeding wound.

"Collins," Roger said, starting to stand up.

"You okay Roger?" Collins asked.

Roger stood unsteadily and turned to look at the man squirming under Collins' hold.

"Dude," he began, staring the man down, "I know where you're coming from, but killing her was not the way to handle it."

"What the fuck do you know about it?" McCardle growled, struggling with Collins.

"My girlfriend gave it to me then killed herself," Roger said blankly, "Killing her wasn't an option. I wanted to, but then again, I chose to live."

"You assholes jumped me," he screamed, "You deserve what you got."

Roger took a deep breath, pain beginning to replace adrenaline.

"No, we all didn't deserve it," Roger continued, as the sounds of sirens started to wail in the distance, "You're more than likely the one she got it from, you understand you shithead?"

"I'm no fag," McCardle replied.

"No, but the guy holding you is," Collins replied, "We're all exposed, but we choose to go on living you son a bitch. You killed her, therefore you stopped living. You know what the murder charge is in the state, right? The needle. The virus isn't going to get you, the state is."

Roger was torn between crying and hitting the man as hard as he could.

"Don't, this piece of shit isn't worth it, baby," Mimi said, knowing the look, "Let's get you looked at."

Roger nodded. There had been enough death in the past week. It was time for some living.

Mary took the moment. She had held herself back long enough. This man had killed her roommate and made her life a living hell for the past two days.

Mark arrived back on the scene, wanting to stop her, but finding himself not able to speak.

"Kevin," she said, walking in front of Roger, "This one's for Erin."

She hit him with every once of emotion that she had left. While it didn't draw any blood, you could hear his jaw crack. He whimpered the look in his eyes of pain and fury. Mary turned from him back to Mark, who was both stunned by the scene and scared for Mary. Her eyes had gone from wild animal to completely and totally lost. She had started to cry, a cry somewhat animal, but that of a lost child. Mark took her into his arms, and simply held her.

The cops pulled up and took McCardle away, waiting for the medics and started to take comments from everyone. Mark, Mary and Collins all spoke to the cops, Mary still shaking from her anger. Mimi sat with Roger as the medic looked him over, stitching his hand while she waited, and her hand gripping his good one tightly.

It was a minor wound, the gauze, the two stitches and the 'happy to help' medic making sure that Roger was okay. He had been the first medical person that hadn't flinched or refused to look at Roger since he was diagnosed and was even going against regulations to do the stitches then and there to help him go through less pain. Roger was grateful that the medic understood and surprised when he gave him a mild painkiller for the next morning.

After they were done, the five returned to the loft. Collins opened the door quickly, walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of Vodka. He found five glasses and poured shots into each one of them.

"We all need this," Collins said, handing them out, "To being alive."

They all silently drank, lost in their own thoughts. Mark turned from them and went to the table where cut scenes from his movie were still laid out. Wordlessly, he pulled a length of film and loaded it into his moviola.

Watching the tiny screen, he noted the scene with a wax pencil. The group watched him. Roger a little disgusted, both by the pain in his hand and Mark not speaking.

"What the fuck are you doing, Mark?" Roger asked.

"Helping put this bastard behind permanently," he said, his voice anger flat, "The cops asked me if I had any footage of him. I do."

"From when you and I met," Mary said, softly, "Damn, if I hadn't gone chasing after you I might have saved Erin from him finding out…"

Mary stopped, her face turning slightly green.

"I think I'm going to be…" she said, running for the bathroom.

She managed to make the bathroom before she vomited everything that she had eaten. Between the tears that strangely formed in her eyes and throwing up, she didn't feel the gentle hands pull her hair back and let her vomit. When she was done, a hand gave her a small wet towel to wipe her face.

As she did, she realized who her benefactor was. Mimi.

"You, hermana have been through a lot," she said, "Not your usual day in the life of a ballerina."

Mary laughed. Mimi had a point.

"Mary," Mimi started, "You have a guy out there who would move the world for you and probably will. You also have many other friends who care. Don't forget it. Okay?"

"I won't, mi amiga," Mary said, "Thank you."

Mimi handed her the glass Mary had drunk her vodka from. She then reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small unopened bottle of Listerine. She poured it into the glass and gave it to her.

"See you in a few, okay?" Mimi replied.

Mary nodded, gargling

She headed out the door a few minutes later to a concerned look from Collins, Roger sitting on the couch nursing his hand, and Mark with his arms open.

"You okay Mary?" he asked, hugging her.

"Now I am," she replied, "Thank you for being you."

"No problem," Mark replied, "Besides, I never want to piss you off."

"Why?" Mary was confused.

"You don't realize you broke his jaw?" Collins asked.

"No," Mary looked at him, "Really?"

"That's what the medic told me," Roger said, "Thought I did it."

"Really? I didn't realize I was that angry," she replied, sitting down next to Roger, "By the way, thank you for doing that."

"Doing what?" Roger smiled a little drunkenly.

Mary kissed him on the forehead, then stood up to join Mark on the window ledge.

"Being heroes, all of you," Mary said, "I appreciate it."

The five sat in the loft, realizing their joy in their life together.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Legal Disclaimer-The characters are Jonathan Larson's. The rights are his estates. The character of Mary Blaine is mine. Mine I tell you. No money made here.

Author's Note- Okay, nearly seven pages. Whoo, and we're still not at opening night. Funny story. It's holiday time where I work and we have a parade going on. The music for the parade is a kind of cheesy, but one of my co-workers asked me if I knew who the singer was of the song. I didn't (rare for me) and I asked those who would know. They didn't know, but called those who did and guess who it was………..Adam freaking Pascal. Now I know why I like that song so freaking much. Anywho, those who review, my love is yours. Those who just read, let me know what you think. Please. Fresh thoughts make better story-I promise. Sweetie-I hope you weren't offended by my last review and I hope you're feeling better.

* * *

The still of the evening was not lost on Mark Cohen. He sat staring at the falling snow, knowing that he couldn't sleep if he wanted to. The stress of the last few hours replayed in his mind, over and over, the man with the knife, the admission of murder, the heroics of his friends, it was a nightmare reel that he couldn't stop if he wanted to. The scenes of a few hours before, the knife, Mary's cold dead face, Collins screaming at him, all played back in his mind at a pace he couldn't control.

He had wrapped himself in a blanket, leaving his now girlfriend Mary Blaine wrapped up in his down comforter. She had fallen asleep in his arms about an hour earlier, not talking about the crime that happened, only wanting to hold him and be held herself. He had happily obliged, knowing he felt the same way. With Mary he had comfort, a serenity that he never felt with Maureen. She loved him for him and he loved her back. It was that simple of a relationship and Mark knew that he needed it more than oxygen.

"Can't sleep huh?" Roger asked softly, coming up behind him, breaking him out of his million mile stare, "Collins' snoring getting to you?"

The room's other occupant still slept on, the vodka they had shared helping him doze.

"No," Mark replied after a moment, "How about you? How's your hand?"

Roger held up his injured right hand. The scar was going to be small, but it still looked like it hurt.

"I need to keep it clean," Roger said, "But I should be able to use it in a few days."

"Great," Mark replied, "I know Mary said it, so I'll say it to. Thank you for being heroic and stupid all at the same time."

"Yeah, I know it was stupid," Roger admitted, "Heroic, hell no."

"Roger, I should have done something," Mark said, "Film the bastard, jump him myself, something."

"Will you quit beating yourself up about it?" Collins said from his spot on the couch.

"You hear the whole thing?" Roger asked.

Collins sat up and also gathered himself in his blanket. He was as cold as Roger and Mark, but sleep and the alcohol had warmed him from the inside. He took what was left of the bottle and poured a small amount into a paper cup and handed it to Roger. Roger took it from him and downed it, the alcohol warming him up as well.

"Yeah, I did," Collins replied, "Mark, what is your deal?"

"Nothing," Mark said, staring off at the falling snow.

"Bullshit," Roger replied, "You feeling like you were useless?"

"I was," Mark said, getting up and going into the kitchen to make himself some tea.

"Mark, you not only called the cops, you identified the guy, you told the medic about my status quietly," Roger started, "You were a help."

"I don't feel like it," Mark said, "My girlfriend is emotionally shattered in my bed. I should have stepped up and done something when she was attacked. Instead I just fucking witnessed it. Don't you get it?"

"You want to be the fucking hero, is that it?" Roger asked, "I'll gladly cut your hand if you want."

Mark shook his head and poured the boiling water into the teapot.

"No," Mark said, "It's not that. Something you said about a year ago keeps coming up. Mark lives in his work. I thought by meeting Mary I might actually start living. You know, get out there and get a fucking life for once."

"And?" Collins asked quietly.

"I feel like I'm watching my own life go by," Mark said, "I should have done something, guys."

Roger met Mark's eyes. The pain he met there was something he rarely saw in Mark, his best friend who had kept him going through his own form of hell. Mark had always been his bright light when things were black. This time, there was no light.

"Mark, you're not," Roger said after a moment, "Take a look at everything that has happened since you met Mary."

"A shit load," Mark replied, "I met someone who is as emotionally detached as I am. She would rather be dancing than breathing sometimes. She's been through hell in the past two days and I don't know how to help her."

"You're frustrated man," Collins said, "She's the first one in a while that can help herself, but wants you to help her as well. She's not Maureen."

"By any hope of the imagination," Mark said, "Thank God."

"Mark, you didn't," Roger began.

"No, we're not even close to having that conversation," Mark interrupted, "She's precious to me and I was a total ass in not being able to help her. Why am I so fucking useless."

"What are you suddenly a trauma counselor? Think about it, she finds her roommate murdered, has the fortune of having us to keep her a little saner. From there, she has one bright moment of dance then blam, all of it is brought up again with that bastard and his admission. Mark, it's called life, nothing is perfect in this life," Roger said, "The one thing you have going for you is that she really does love you."

"She loves the dance more though, Roger," Mark said, "I don't know if I can even compete."

"You can," Collins began, "She's made a place in her life for you. Be patient. It will all come in time."

"Yeah, I know that," Mark said, adding a stolen sugar packet to his tea, "I'm just not used to all of this, and hell, tonight scared the hell out of me."

"Us too," Collins said, "Helps to try and sleep it off."

"Can't," Mark replied, "I wish I could, but I can't."

"You're going to have to, not just for Mary, but for you, when is the last time you actually slept?" Roger asked, "You look like shit, Mark. For God's sake, go to sleep."

Mark looked at his friends. The look of concern warmed him. For the first time in a long time it was them worrying about him and not the other way around. Mark finished his tea and went back to bed. He gently crawled into the double bed, wrapping himself around Mary. He kissed her gently on the forehead and closed his eyes. As his body relaxed his mind did as well, ballerinas dancing across snow starting his dreams.

* * *

The morning light brought the headache of a lifetime to Mary Blaine. She opened her eyes and knew instantly the migraine that was soon to follow. She usually had them when the stress of opening night was getting to her, and this one was a doozy. Moving would hurt. Focusing her eyes would hurt, breathing would hurt. Damn, the timing was shitty.

Gently she opened her eyes again and tried to focus. She knew she was at Mark's, she could smell Collins' cooking in the other room, but the sounds and lights were getting to her. If she moved, she would be nauseous.

"Mary?" Mark whispered, not wanting to startle her, "You awake."

"Barely," she creaked, "What time is it?"

"8," Mark replied softly, "You okay?"

"I have a migraine," she whimpered back, "If you check my backpack there's a drug in there for them."

"Let me get some water," Mark said, "I'll be right back."

"Thanks," she whispered.

While it was mere minutes, it felt like hours and Mary knew that she would be in bad shape if she didn't have the medication at all. She felt gentle hands put a pill in her hand, and a glass in her other hand.

Her hand hurt. She couldn't remember why, but she took the pill then downed the glass of water.

"How long does it usually take?" Mark asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

Mary's weak smile warmed his heart.

"About twenty minutes," she croaked, "And Stay, please."

"Done," he replied, settling in next to her, "Baby, you name it, I'll do it."

Mary snuggled in next to him. His head was above hers and she could hear his heart beat. It was strong and steady, and it helped her to think about something other than the pounding in her head.

"This works for me," Mary said, "Thank you."

"You gonna be okay?" he asked, "I'm worried about you."

"It's just a headache, Marcus," she said, "Wish my hand didn't hurt as well."

"Marcus," Mark laughed, "I like that. Your hand hurts? You gave Kevin a hell of a right cross."

"Oh, yeah," Mary said, "I had forgotten that. I broke the bastard's jaw."

"You did, Mary," Mark said, "Remind me never to piss you off."

Even though it hurt, Mary laughed. She couldn't help it.

"Who taught you how to hit like that?" Mark asked, perplexed.

"My ballet instructor in high school," Mary replied, "Told me that women and men in dance have to put up with that crap from people all the time."

"Wise man," Mark said, gently rubbing his fingers along her shoulder.

He gently kissed her shoulder. She didn't react, it hurt too much.

"Died of AIDS last year," Mary said bitterly, "I found out before class and kept dancing."

"That's what he would have wanted you do right?" Mark asked, "You can handle it."

"Yeah, I know," Mary tried looking at the room again, she could focus, "Just sucks that I wasn't there to go to his funeral. Too busy with Giselle to leave. He was such a funny guy, Mark. Hell of a dancer as well."

"Death sucks," Mark stated, "How you feeling?"

Her eyes met his. She broke his glance quickly; focusing for long periods of time caused her head to hurt.

"Better," she said, "I only get these every once and a while, I figured I might get one with the stress since it's opening night."

"And after last night, you were bound to," Mark said, "I'm sorry I wasn't more of a help to you."

She pulled his face toward hers. She opened her eyes to meet his.

"Don't you dare start thinking that you weren't a help last night," Mary said, "Jesus Mark, you don't realize how important to me you were."

"Important?" Mark asked.

"Important," Mary replied, slowly sitting up, "Mark, you were a hell of a lot calmer than I was. Part of me wanted to kill him, part of me wanted to run all the way back to Boston, where I could teach dance, and the other part of me wanted to forget everything he ever said. Erin slept around, but she was always careful. He date raped her, that's why she broke up with him. More than likely, he gave her AIDS, but dammit, she didn't deserve to die for it."

"It's a death sentence anyway," Mark said, helping her up, "At least that's how Kevin sees it."

"And Roger, Collins, Mimi and you see it differently," Mary replied, "You know that while you were calling the cops and I wanted to help Roger, he wouldn't let me. He didn't want me exposed to HIV and told me you will kill him if he was responsible for it."

Mark sighed. Roger was looking out for someone other than himself. This wasn't the angry rocker he once knew. Maybe Mimi had caused him to grow up. It was a little startling and a little heartwarming at the same time. He could only hope. He gently put an arm around Mary who in turn leaned in to rest on his chest.

"Thank you for telling me that," Mark began, "He's changed so much."

"He told me how he found April, Mark," Mary interrupted, "He also told me how you dragged him kicking and screaming to rehab. He owes you his life and he knows it. You watched him fall in love with Mimi and almost lose her, and now, where the hell are you? In love with a workaholic who is so far into ballet that she's forgotten who she is."

Mary couldn't believe that she had finally admitted it. She was so far into the dance that she had forgotten who she was, until last night when Kevin admitted the murder. She very easy could have been Erin, and at least she was alive to realize it. One life had passed her by, and she wasn't sure if she would be the next one.

"Wow," Mark said after a few minutes, "You had that building for a long time."

"Yeah, I have," Mary closed her eyes, "That a problem?"

"No," Mark's reply was honest, "It's not. I'm realizing that you have fallen in love a filmmaker who doesn't know when to yell cut. Real life is too busy getting in the way."

"I'm beginning to think we were made for each other," Mary started, "Damn Cupid."

"You saying you actually love me, Mary Elizabeth Blaine?" Mark asked, putting his hand in hers.

"What did you do, read my driver's license?" she asked as he laughed.

"Yeah, I did," Mark said, "and do you love me?"

"Yeah, I do," Mary replied, her eyes opening to meet his, "Real life is getting even more interesting, isn't it?"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Disclaimer-They're Jonathan's not mine. Thank you Jonathan, I hope you're writing in heaven.

Author's Note- Yep, we're hitting opening night. Pent-Took what you said and tried to make it work better here. Hopefully it helped. Also, we're learning a little more about Mary.

Note-My next couple of chapters will take some time to do. I'm heading away from the main machine, but I will be on laptop. I should be able to put more up, just be aware it will be a couple of days before you see something new. Also bought Aida. Adam has the voice of an Angel. Merry Whatever you all. Read and Review-that's my present.

* * *

About an hour later, Mary felt well enough to open her eyes and communicate with the outside world. She got up slowly, Mark being a steadying presence along with a steady arm as she headed into the living area of the loft. She kissed him before they left the room, she felt well enough to do that standing up.

Collins food smelled better than it did when she first woke up. She knew food was a good idea, the medication she took would work better on a full stomach, but it would have to be a slow attempt at it.

She looked at the occupants of the loft and tried to smile. She knew it was weak, but she had to admit, she felt like hell. Damn migraine. It hit on the possible worse day, at the possible worse moment, Damn.

"Morning, Mary," Roger said softly, "Mark told us. You okay?"

"Once the jackhammer stops, yes," Mary replied, her grogginess showing, "This will pass."

"Anything we can do to help?" Collins and Mimi asked in stereo.

They grinned instead of laughing. The silence was appreciated.

"Guys, I'll be okay, but thanks for asking," Mary's reply was soft, "Marcus, you got anything other than Captain Crunch?"

"Marcus?" Collins, Mimi and Roger mouthed in unison.

Mark blushed. After Marky, he knew he wasn't going to live 'Marcus' down, but at least it sounded cooler.

"Hey it's better than Marky. Mary, give me a second, I think so," Mark flew past her to look in the cabinet, "Some oatmeal?"

"Yeah, that'll work," Mary put a hand on his arm, "I'll make it, it helps to be up."

"Distraction help at all?" Collins asked, "I used to have them as well."

"Always," Mary said, "Crap. It's opening night tonight."

"Yep," Mark replied.

"It's nine right?" Mary asked.

"Nine thirty to be exact," Mimi replied, "Mary, you okay?"

"Nothing food can't fix," she said, pouring the hot water on the instant oatmeal, "I don't have to be in until four. Until then, I need to ditch this headache."

"Medication working?" Mark asked, gently putting a hand on the small of her back.

"Yep," she said, finding a clean spoon and stirring the oatmeal, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Mark replied, "Roger can tell you I do good water and pills."

"He's a mench, let me tell you," Roger laughed, "Your color is coming back."

The phone rang, and to Mary the sharp sounds of bells did hurt. She closed her eyes and paled for a moment, waited for the ringing to stop as the machine picked up.

"SPEAK!" Mark and Roger's voice's always caused her to smile.

"Hello, I do hope I have reached the right place. I'm trying to find Mary, my daughter," a female voice said, "I watched the news last night and I want to make sure that she's okay."

Mary walked over to the phone and picked it up.

"Hi, Mom," she said softly, "Yes, I do know that I should have called you. No, I'm okay. No, you don't know Mark, Roger, Collins or Mimi. I do and I trust them. No, I don't need you to come down. I love you too. It's okay. I'm probably going to go back to the dorms in a couple of days. Erin made the news in Boston? No, Mom, I didn't know that she was positive. Mother, I sent you all the information on that when Mr. Eberly died. There is no possible way that I could have been exposed. No, I'm not leaving New York and coming home. No. Not gonna happen. Mom, I have to go. Mark's going with me to the theater. No, I'm okay. Yes, I'll see you on New Years. Goodbye."

Mary turned around to the occupants of the loft.

"You know, I've been asked why I didn't stay in Boston and dance there," Mary began, "You would leave too if you met my mother."

"You know, you can stay as long as you need to," Mark said, "I don't mind."

"Neither do we," Roger and Mimi answered in unison.

Mark laughed. Collins couldn't help but join him, as the others laughed. Mary did fit in, more than she knew.

* * *

They planned to regroup in time to see Mary's opening night. Mark and Mary had a little private time before she had to go in for final rehearsal, Roger and Mimi met for lunch, and Collins ran off to work.

Mark sat and edited his film. If he timed it right, he could drop it off to Buzzline before heading over to the theater. He was going to take Mimi's advice and make sure that he had plum colored roses for Mary's stage bow. He was excited for her, but he knew that he also needed to work. Rent would be due. Benny was becoming more friendly since he and Roger made up, and he would always be grateful to him for the ride to the theater three days ago.

_Shit, that was three days ago_, Mark thought to himself, as he watched Mary on film, pull another turn on her toes, _You are the whirlwind to my life, Mary Blaine_.

He was concerned about her though. Roger had made a comment that reminded him about himself. Mary was lost in the dance. He was right with his insecurity of the early day. She had become part of his life, but was she as lost in her work as he was. The death of her roommate had affected her, she was upset about it, but something wasn't sitting right with him. He couldn't place a finger on it, but her lack of emotion after McCready's arrest made him wonder. Was she so emotionally detached that she had forgotten how to feel?

The migraines were another thing. She never mentioned them before. She had medication for them, medication that worked wonders. Was something else going on here?

On film, the light that Mary had in her eyes when she danced was only echoed in one other place, when he looked into them. He knew he was lost, and he realized that he was thinking of her again.

Mary, on the other hand, had realized that she was very nervous about tonight. She kept going over her thoughts of how the piece she was dancing should go, over and over again. The ballet instructors she had always said she was a superb ballerina, her technique being picture perfect, her passion noticeable, but not at a level they thought would get her lead parts, but were willing to give her the sugar plum fairy in this so she could prove her grit. They also understood when she found Erin, they seemed to be watching her like it was a test.

She hoped and prayed she wouldn't fail that test. She packed her bag for the show, making sure that she had the things she knew she would need, then taking a brush out of her backpack, she brushed her long red hair, pulling it back into the bun she wore while dancing. She looked at herself in the mirror.

The pain that was her headache was fading from her eyes, and the paleness she knew from lack of sleep was present. The food did help, but as she looked at her reflection, she did see the weight loss she knew from stress. Once the show got rolling, though, she knew she would be okay. She walked out into the main part of the loft, past Mark and in her slippers, ran herself through her early stretches. She would do this again when she got to the theater, but doing it now meant less chance of muscle pulling when she got there.

It was a ritual that Mark observed, stopping his editing, and reaching for his loaded camera.

"Focus on Mary, opening day of Nutcracker, nervous but stretching every muscle, every bone, every sinew…" he narrated, "At least that's what I think you're doing…Mary?"

Mary gave Mark a glare then did something unexpected, he hadn't noticed her toe shoes. She went up on her toes, increasing her height.

"Show off," Mark laughed, "How nervous are you?"

"If I throw up now, it's not gonna look pretty nervous," Mary replied, "I have to concentrate, baby, so please forgive me if I don't talk."

"Have at it," Mark replied, "I'll just go back to editing…"

As Mary's concentration turned inward during her stretching, Mark let the camera roll. Her movements were somewhere between tai chi and watching a runner warm up before a race. Purposeful, yet beautiful.

* * *

Mary left for the theater, Mark deep in concentration. His edits were nearly perfect. The emotion was set in the frames that flickered by. The spirit and beauty of the holiday season was evident in every frame.

Mark was happy with it, but realized that he was alone. He looked at his watch, it was four and he needed to hit the bathroom if he was going to be ready in time. Roger and Mimi would be home any second.

He remembered the few minutes before she left. She came out, looking scared, but insisting that she go alone. She was ready to go, she was all together ready to dance. He kissed her as she left, seeing the light he knew she had in her eyes return. He wouldn't push it any further; he had grown to respect her decision and was willing to stick to it. She would know that soon enough.

Mary, on the other hand was a bundle of nerves. The theater was home, but it didn't feel like it. She got dressed in her costume, after another round of stretching, spoke to the few fellow dancers she did know then sat in the silence of the dressing area. Mentally she was ready, she knew every step, every direction, every facial expression.

The knock on the door pulled her out of her trance. She opened the door to an usher, who in turn had a vase full of plum-colored roses.

"He said he wasn't going to bother you, but to make sure you had these and the card," the usher continued.

Mary thanked him and took the roses. She smelled them, smiled, then opened the card.

Mary-

_Finished the film and they loved it. Love Heals, Love is patient, Love is kind and Love waits. So will I, I love you more than words or images can say…Mark_

_PS-Dance like you never have tonight_. _We're all behind you_.

Mary smiled. Her nerves were gone. She had found another home, with Mark and the rest of Bohemia.


	15. Chapter 15

Death of a Muse-Chapter 15

Legal disclaimer-Larson's estate owns, I rent, my payment being the sheer joy I get out of the story and turning others onto Rent.

Author's Note-Ah, the joy of a road trip. My laptop has no power cord, it's sitting on my bed at home, so I write this late at night at my parent's computer. Please excuse the timing in getting chapters out, I'm busy, it's the holidays-Merry Whatever. Oh, yeah, it's ballet time (I know, finally!) and yes, love is in the air. Reviewing is a gift to me, I unwrap each review with glee. Miss Hollywood, thank you for your review, I am glad you're still with me as the others are…I love all my reviewers. You guys all rock.

* * *

The ballet was exquisite. Mimi Marquez sat with her arm wrapped around Roger's, watching the dreams of children come alive with a unique beauty that is only experienced when the ballet is live. The symphony was perfect as well. 

Roger sat enraptured by the union of dance to the music. He had heard all the pieces of the Nutcracker every single year since he could remember, could play bits and pieces of the music on his guitar, but also had never seen the beauty of the dance and of the music played with a live symphony.

Collins and Chang moved closer together as they sat watching the ballet. Maureen and Joanne also watched the ballet, happy that they were there, a good escape from the fight that they had earlier. A story to escape into was the best medicine for anyone whose heart was aching and this was just the right one for the group.

Mark, on the other hand, found the ballet a bit otherworldly. Even though he was Jewish, his Russian grandparents had told him the story as they knew it, his Nana even having the chance to see the Nutcracker performed by the Bolsohi. The story of the Nutcracker starts on Christmas Eve, when Clara's Nutcracker was broken by her brother Fritz. Clara falls asleep after her Nutcracker is fixed and has a very unusual dream. That dream includes her Nutcracker coming to life to battle the Mouse King and winning. When the mouse king is defeated, the Nutcracker turns into a prince and takes Clara on a journey to the land of snow.

On that journey, they journey through the land of snowflakes, then the land of sweets. In the land of sweets, they meet the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Mary had been so nervous when she left that he knew she feared a misstep. As she started across the stage, Mark realized how nervous he was for her. Her part included six dances in one, as a reward to the Prince for defeating the Mouse King.

She was dressed entirely in white, her red hair a beautiful offset to the set and other dancers. She spun, pirouetted, stepped, and danced with a passion and fire that told him instant she read the note. She was dancing like she never had before.

Mary was in her element and she took his breath away. When she was done, the audience was cheering in admiration. She was perfection.

The group of Bohemians enjoyed the rest of the ballet, Mark impatient for it to finish so he could tell Mary how much he loved it, but ready for her final bow. She was happy to come out and bow with the rest of the cast, a nod going to the corner where she had put the Bohemians. As the lights came up, she could see Mark's grin in the audience and their eyes met.

Her smile back was pure radiance.

* * *

The usual after show group came and went as the Bohemians waited for Mary to be finished. She had to speak to the directors, making sure that they were okay with her performance, make sure her costume was stored properly, remove the overdone makeup and brush out her hair. 

By the time she met the gang, she was looking completely different. She had dressed to go out with them, looking much younger than the ballerina they had just witnessed on stage. She looked like one of them, jeans, pretty flannel shirt, and her hair in a braid.

"Hi guys," she said, "Thanks for coming. How did you like the show?"

They didn't answer, they just applauded. Mary blushed and laughed. Without missing a beat, she bowed.

"Awwww," Mary said, "Thanks."

"No, thank you," Collins said, "We're taking you to dinner, Ms. Blaine, you've earned a celebration."

"A celebration?" Mary asked, "Why am I thinking the Life Café?"

"Are we that predictable?" Roger asked, giving her a kiss on the cheek, "C'mon Mary."

"Predictable is good," Mary continued, "And friends are even better. Let's go guys."

As they got to the café, Mary was surprised by the crowd. The group walked in, met their usual harried waiter who asked they don't put tables together, but as always, they put the tables together. Mary realized she was hungry, the ballet had taken a lot out of her and for the first time all day, she had an appetite.

After ordering, the group sat telling her about how much they loved the ballet. Roger went on about how balanced and perfect the music was, Mimi was glowing over the dancing, and Chang was thrilled with how amazing it all looked. He mentioned her perfection in the Chinese section of the dance, his familiarity with that kind of ballet coming through in his conversation with her. Maureen and Joanne enjoyed her costume, asking how hard it was to dance in it. Maureen had commented on the Prince, which earned her a kick under the table from Joanne, while Mary regrettably informed her that his boyfriend was at the theater tonight as well.

Mary laughed, enjoying the questions. It was so wonderful to have people who enjoyed the ballet for what it was, not the usual crowd that she hung with, the ones who only knew steps and body position. She had grown so tired of them, they had missed the point that ballet was art.

Mark squeezed her hand. She turned to look at him, camera in her face. He had it with him, but she knew he had respected her request not to film the show.

"Mary Blaine, you just danced the ballet of your life, what do you have to say next?" Mark asked.

She lifted the glass of beer in her hand and smiled sweetly.

"To DANCE!" she toasted, "To Friends and to George Balanchine!"

"I bet you can't find something that rhymes with that Mark," Roger laughed, "Way to go Mary. That was amazing tonight."

"Thank you Roger," Mary replied, "And for rhymes? Machine, chime, time, rhyme…"

"Yeah," Mark smiled, "Go on Mary."

"You're the one who's the best at it, Marcus," Mary replied, kissing him, "Thank you for the roses, they were perfect. How did you know?"

"Another dancer told me," Mark answered, "Thank you Mimi."

Mimi's smile was radiant.

"Sometimes have to educate the uninitiated," Mimi replied, "Glad to help."

Mary couldn't help it, she yawned. She looked at her watch, it was one a.m.

"My god, it's not the company," she started, "Just been a really long day."

"And an early one tomorrow," Collins retorted, "I think it is best that we all go."

They all went dutch on the check and headed out various ways home. Mark was arm and arm with Mary, Roger and Mimi just ahead of them as they walked down Avenue B to the loft.

It was cold, a wind was blowing in from the water, and the beginnings of snow were falling, turning the dingy streets into a winter wonderland.

"God it's beautiful tonight," Mary said, smiling, "I wish it didn't have to end."

"It doesn't," Mark said softly, "I meant what I said, Mary. I will wait for you."

Mary stopped and looked at Mark. He was serious, far beyond when he reminded Mimi and Roger to take their AZT or when his brows were knitted in concentration over an editing project.

Emotions hit Mary full blast, joy over his patience, frustration over her lack of committal, fear over what could come next, and another emotion that she knew only one other place.

Love.

_Oh shit_, she thought to herself, _Mary, you're in love with him, what now?_

"Mark, I," Mary was interrupted by his lips.

The full passion of the kiss was enough to make her knees go weak. He held her by the small of her back as he kissed her, passionate, sweet, but with enough emotion behind it to turn her into jelly.

"Whenever you're ready," Mark said, "Like I said, for you, I will wait."

"Thank you," was all Mary could say, words leaving her.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Legal disclaimer-So you already know, I don't own them. Larson's estate owns them.

Author's Note-Dennis, my friend, nice to see you and thank you. This is more of a Mary and her panic chapter, so, read with the appropriate warnings, my reviewers and readers who don't review. I would love to hear what you think of it. It's heading a direction you're not expecting, but I do have a plan (no, really, I do). I hope all of you are having a nice vacation break-I am, Merry Holidaze you all. Reviewing is a gift, and it's a free one at that….

* * *

Mary found herself unable to sleep. She had tried, snuggled in close to Mark who was asleep in minutes, his warmth making her a bit too warm, her need to sleep evident, but her racing mind made it impossible. She lay awake for a few minutes then made up her mind, cocoa. 

She got up carefully, making sure that she didn't wake Mark, and headed into the main room of the loft. Collins had left, the fumigation done and his time away from Chang making his heart hurt. They went off together, happy to have each other. Mary was sad to see him go, but happy that he was with someone he so dearly loved.

Mary went to the small fridge that the boys had rewired to work and tried to see if they had any milk. She had brought cocoa from her dorm room, her sure fire fix it for a sleepless night. As she found the tools to make her cocoa, she looked around the room and enjoyed the quiet.

The trip to her dorm had been interesting. She had a short while before opening at the theater to visit it, and she knew she had to. The cops had dusted it for all sorts of prints, the mess that they had made was one she really didn't want to clean up, but she had the realization that she was not the same person that was Erin's roommate. Her stopping Mark had started a chain of events that had changed her life. It was eerie, it was scary, and something deep down told her it was right. She felt like she had walked into a shadow of her old life, watching it go by as she walked around the room. Death changed her. It was for the better she knew, but it was still bothered her.

She made the cocoa and found herself sitting on the edge of the windowsill, staring at the snow. It had changed the landscape, it was calming, and it made her feel calmer.

"Have any more of that?" Roger asked from behind her.

"Spare pack is in the cabinet," Mary replied, after she recovered from being startled, "You scared me."

"Sorry," Roger smiled, "Private thoughts?"

"Kind of," Mary said softly, "Have a hell of a lot on my mind."

"You've been through a lot, want to talk?" Roger asked, adding the hot water into the cocoa.

"Yeah, I do," Mary said, patting the seat on the couch next to her, "If you're up to it."

"Always," Roger replied, pouring the last of her previous boiled water into a cup with the mix in it, "What's on your mind?"

"Roger, what the hell I am going to do?" she asked, not looking at him, but out the window.

"Mark?" Roger asked, softly, knowing how hard it was for her to talk.

"Yeah, if you're uncomfortable talking to me about him, I'll..." Mary started, her eyes meeting his, her hands slightly shaking.

"It's okay," Roger said, "I've been his best friend for years, Mary, what's wrong?"

"Me. I'm what's wrong," she said, "When I first met him on the street, I had no idea of how to talk to him, he was a guy. I don't do well talking to guys, well, that is guys who don't dance. He was the first one in a long time to get to know me for me. Not just another guy trying to get into a ballerina's tights, you know?"

"And this is wrong how?" Roger replied, watching her, "You, Mary Blaine, are a very interesting person. Not many dancers, sorry, ballerinas, would stop for a film maker. You did, got interested in what he was doing and now, you are a part of his life."

Mary turned away from him and back to the snow.

"Maybe that's it," Mary replied, "I'm so fascinated that I have met someone not in dance."

"Maybe that's what you need," Roger said, sipping his cocoa, "You have said yourself that you spend too much time dancing. Maybe seeing the outside world is something you didn't know you needed? I once had a huge fight with Mark, just before I moved to Santa Fe..."

"For two months," Mary interrupted, "Mark told me. You told him to stop living in his work and get out and live."

"He used to live in it, Mary," Roger said, "All he did was film, ask questions about life, while all around him he was missing it."

"He still does that," Mary said, "It used to be worse?"

"It was allthe time," Roger continued, "It was his only activity for a while. Angel had gotten him to see the world around him as he filmed, you know, take a moment to smell the roses. I think what Angel taught him and what I said hit him when I went to Santa Fe."

"Did Santa Fe help you?" Mary asked, "I know you had fought with Mimi, that's why you went…"

"That was part of it," Roger replied, sighing," You know, when I look back at it, it's good that I did go. I needed to get away from all the drama here. I had to let it all calm down. Luckily, Mimi came back to me. She's off smack, she's doing well, and I..."

"You love her, Roger, that's pretty evident, and you two are a great couple," Mary's reply was genuine, "There's a look you guys get when you're together that I can't even begin to explain."

"You should see it in the mirror, you get the same look when you're with Mark," Roger replied, "He really does love you, you know."

"Yeah, and tonight I realized that I really do love him," Mary replied, "He's the most understanding person I have met. I'm the one who doesn't understand love, Roger, that's my problem. Why him? Why now? You know tonight was huge for me, I don't know if I can have a relationship and ballet."

"You two are frighteningly similar, but, different," Roger continued, "Mary, what else is bothering you? You scared by all this?"

Mary didn't answer, just shook her head.

"Damn," Roger replied, "This the first guy you have ever…"

"Fallen for heart and soul?" Mary interrupted softly, "Yes."

Roger looked at her wide-eyed. While he knew her history, it hadn't occurred to him how scared of emotional commitment she really was.

"Mary, how can I help?" Roger asked.

"You already are, you're listening," Mary replied, "I've spent my life with one true love, the ballet. I have worked for it, bled for it, cried over it, raised my level of it, interpreted it, done everything I can possibly imagine with it, and still, I crave more of it. I meet Mark, and instantly, I don't crave it as much as I used to. I want Mark to see how I am doing with it; I want to have Mark at every performance, I…"

"Mary, is this love or addiction?" Roger asked quietly.

Mary stopped. It made sense. She loved Mark. She wanted him part of her life, more than ballet at that moment, but ballet to her was like breathing.

Roger watched her thinking about what he said. To him, it made perfect sense. She was addicted to ballet, to the feeling that you only get when all lights are centered on you, but, when it came to Mark, she was lost. He was a steady port in an unending storm, and she was lost in that very storm. Roger knew how she felt, the art of music and dance went hand in hand, but her need for the stage was addicting.

"Both," she said, "I hadn't thought of it that way, Roger."

"It's okay to," Roger continued, "You know, we all have our addictions in life, things that to us are like breathing. I was a junkie so that feeling from perfect shows stayed around as long as the smack did. I thought I had lost that feeling when April told me we had AIDS, but I didn't check out, Mary. I stayed around. Thanks to Mark, thanks to Collins and in her own way, thanks to Mimi. When I am with her and onstage, it's the same thing, I'm happy."

"She got you the hell out of the house, Mark said," Mary smiled, "He was used to you being a couch potato."

"I put him through hell," Roger admitted, "It's something I am not proud of, but he seems to have forgiven me for it. He's my best friend. Rehab was hell and he stuck with me. Post rehab was the center of hell; he stuck with me through that as well. When I was ready to give up, he kept me here. I owe him everything."

"I can only imagine," Mary replied, "He's the most loyal person I have ever met. I don't want to hurt him; I just love him and have no clue how to tell him."

"Tell him," Roger suggested, "Flat out, tell him. It's the big L, not the little one, you give a damn, girl, let him know. He deserves it."

"I know Roger, I know," Mary replied, "You're a good listener, you know that."

"I'm not just the pretty boy front man," Roger smiled, and then grimaced slightly. He had burned the inside of his injured hand with the hot mug.

"Your hand?" Mary asked, putting her hands out to look at his, "C'mon Roger let me see it."

"It's okay, there's no sign of infection," Roger said, "It's not bleeding, just sensitive to the heat from the mug."

"Let me see it, Roger," Mary insisted, "I'll get gloves, if it makes you feel better."

Roger submitted, turning his hand over. The wound was healing, the skin stitching itself back together. Roger had kept it very clean, but the gauze had gotten loose around the wound. The gash was still angry looking, but the area was clean. Mary tsked under her breath and went over to the hook where she hung her coat and dance bag. Rummaging through it, she took a small roll of gauze and tape from it, a bottle of alcohol and her leather gloves. Putting the gloves on, she then turned back to Roger.

"Lesson one in ballet is how to protect your toes, especially when they bleed, let me redress it, ok?"

He nodded. Just by her nature, he knew he could trust her.

"Just remember, I hate to be babied," he said, sticking out his hand and turning his head, "I also hate the sight of my own blood."

"No blood, it will probably burn a bit," Mary said, taking the alcohol and washing the gash.

It did burn as Roger grimaced. Mary started to distract him.

"You know, it won't hurt if you don't think about it," Mary continued, "Think about when it's healed."

"And I can play the Fender, that'll work," Roger laughed, as Mary continued, "You know, you would make a great nurse."

She looked at him and smiled, handing his hand back to him. The gash was perfectly covered, taped so that he could use his hand comfortably, and didn't hurt.

"I'm working on being a great girlfriend to Mark," Mary laughed, "How does that feel?"

Roger flexed his hand. For the first time since the attackers' blade sliced it, it didn't hurt.

"Wow, you're an expert," he said, hugging her, "Thanks."

"Just be careful with it," Mary warned, "I can only work my magic once a day."

"So can I, did I help?" Roger asked.

She hugged him back.

"Yeah, you did, thanks," she said, her voice muffled by his chest, "I think we both better get back to sleep."

Roger yawned.

"Good idea," he said, "Oh, and Mary?"

"Yes?"

"Don't hurt him."

"I won't, I promise."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Legal Disclaimer-Larson's estate owns them, I only rent.

Author's Note-December 25th, 10:29 PM-Merry Christmas.

Reviews appreciated. Begged for, thanked. You know, the usual. Oh yeah, DRAMA alert.

* * *

As morning dawned, Mark Cohen thanked his luck that Mary was asleep in his bed. He knew that she was tired, so he left her alone, kissing her on the forehead, then heading out of the cold bedroom. She had wrapped herself up in the comforter during the night, his own blanket now covered her as well. She looked so peaceful, he was sad to leave her.

He walked into the main room of the loft, rubbing the sleep out his eyes. He put his glasses back on to the sight of Roger, sitting on the edge of the windowsill, drinking coffee and scribbling intensely in his notebook. Mimi had left already, her job at the bookstore requiring early hours for the holidays.

"Hey," Mark said, startling Roger, "Morning."

"Good morning, Mary still out?" Roger asked, eyes still in the book.

"Cold, she danced her heart out last night," Mark replied, looking at his mug sitting on the counter, hot water on the hot plate, "Tea?"

"And Captain Crunch," Roger smiled, "We had a little extra money this week."

Mark opened the cabinet. The beloved cereal that he and Roger had fought over for years was in front of him. He took the box out, opened it, noticed that he was the first one to open it, and smelled the sugary goodness. It was going to be a good day.

"God, I needed that," Mark laughed, noting Roger giving him a strange look, "You didn't eat?"

"Not hungry," Roger said, writing down a lyric in his notebook, "Had a song wake me up this morning, and I knew that if I didn't start on it, I would…"

"I'm all for artistic jones', just don't forget to eat and.."

Roger held up the AZT bottle. It rattled when he shook it.

"I know, I took it an hour ago," Roger smiled, "I got it under control Mark, don't worry."

"I will always worry, Roger, its part of my nature," Mark looked at him, "How are you, by the way?"

Roger held up his hand. The small bandage that Mary had expertly placed on his hand was still in place. He flexed it then got back to his writing.

"Nice job on your hand, who did it? Mimi?" Mark asked, pouring the hot water into his tea.

"No, Mary," Roger replied, getting up to refill his coffee, "She's quite a woman."

"I know," Mark smiled, "Last night was amazing. The ballet was more than I expected."

Mark looked at the answering machine. It was flashing.

"You pick up the messages?" he asked.

"Fuck no," Roger replied, hitting the listen button, "Let's see what Benny wants now."

The tape rewound, they heard the usual "Speak" then started to play.

"The following is for Mary Blaine. This is her mother, Margret Blaine. She needs to meet me at the theater before the show tonight, I need to talk to her. I know that you gentlemen are helping her, it's appreciated, but, I need her someplace where I know where she is. That's why I hope you will give her this message, or I will surprise her tonight. The choice is yours. If she wants to call me, I'm at the Hilton on Broadway."

"Wow, and I thought my mother was the queen of guilt trips," Mark said, "Mary warned me about her, but she's .."

"Like ours," Roger said, "Explains a lot. Mary and I talked last night. Turns out last night was big for her."

"Yeah?" Mark asked, "She okay?"

"Lots on her mind," Roger said, "She needed a friend, I was happy to oblige. You better go wake her up though, that sounded like a mother on rampage call."

"It was," Mary said, yawning in the doorway, "Damnit. I just had the night of my life and she's in town to ruin it."

"I thought she supported your dancing," Mark said, leaning over to kiss her as she walked by.

She returned the kiss, but the tension was readable. She was angry.

"The theater supports it, they actually pay me a small stipend to live in the dorms and dance. My mother on the other hand," Mary continued, finding her usual mug and pouring coffee in it, "Wants to run my life. Dancing is my only escape from her. She wanted me to stay in Boston."

"Oh," Mark replied, his look of sympathy mirroring Roger's, "Is it better if you go…"

"And see her before she shows up to the theater, yes," Mary replied, "I don't want to drag you into this, but it won't be a good meeting. With Erin's death, she's going to want me to come home, Mark. I don't intend to. Ever."

"Mary," Mark said, putting down her coffee, "I'll go to the ends of the earth for you, what do you want me to do?"

"Shoot me now," Mary replied, "Please."

Roger formed a gun with his fingers and shot her, winking at her.

"Thanks," Mary smiled grimly, "She's the travel agent for guilt trips. I love her because she's my mother, but I left when I turned twenty for a reason. The money that ABT offered me got me out of there."

"Does she know that you have a life outside of dance?" Roger asked, "She might not be too good to Mark."

"She'll have to be," Mary replied, "She's going to have to deal with the life I have outside of dance. If not, she'll never know about it."

"Okay," Mark replied, "Let me get dressed and I'll go with you."

"Thank you," Mary replied, downing the rest of her coffee, "And Roger, thank you for listening last night. You gonna be here most of the day?"

Roger looked up from his notebook.

"Yeah, why?" he asked.

"I have a surprise for you guys, and I want someone home to get it, K?" Mary smiled as Mark came out of the bedroom dressed, "Give me a second, Marcus, and we'll jet."

She headed toward him and kissed him deeply. Breaking the kiss, she slapped him on the ass and headed into the bedroom. Mark blushed but continued to get dressed, pulling on his shoes.

"I still can't used to you being called Marcus," Roger said, shaking his head.

"Still beats Pookie," Mark smiled, "You good though? Aren't you playing tonight?"

Roger laughed.

"Yes mother," he replied, "I'm singing tonight, can't really play yet. Thanks for asking and good luck, I have a feeling you'll need it."

Mark sighed. He hoped he wasn't right.

* * *

Mary was fully angry by the time she and Mark reached the Hilton. Mark knew that Mary had a temper, it was evident by the experience with McCardle, but also, she was so angry that her body language screamed to leave her alone. The look in her eyes screamed it as well.

"Whatever you do, keep me calm," Mary asked, "I'm so sorry to drag you into this, Mark, but she's gonna make me crazy."

"You told me that she was tough," Mark said, "After hearing her on the machine, how tough is she?"

"Tough, angry Irish woman," Mary replied, as they entered the Hilton, "Think your mother with horns."

Mark shuddered. He and Mary had the family talk a few weeks ago, his admitting to not returning to Scarsdale because of his mother, Mary's that she turned to dance to get away from her mother. He knew something was very wrong with her relationship with her mother, but to see her reaction to it was unsettling. He knew that he would at least be her rock.

"Not that bad," Mark smiled, "You know she does care about you."

"Yeah, and my checkbook," Mary said, scowling, "You don't know about the Boston Blaines, do you?"

"Boston Blaines?" Mark asked, "Mary, what are you saying?"

"I'm not the financially poor dancer that you think you know," Mary said, settling into the chairs in the lobby of the hotel, "Mark, My family has been in Boston for over 60 years. The business of art and antique dealing was very profitable and well, I managed to get the dance genes in the family. Quite the scandal. My gram was pretty supportive of my dancing, my mother wasn't. Gram left me a great amount of money. Mom's not too happy about it, and at every opportunity wants to make sure that I don't have it."

"How much are we talking about here, Mary?" Mark asked, "I mean your mother just wants to make sure that you have an inheritance."

"It's eight million dollars, Mark," Mary said.

Mark's look of surprise saddened Mary. She met his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm a millionaire."

* * *

Back at the loft, Mary's surprise was a bit startling for Roger. The repairmen started on the skylight about an hour after Mark and Mary left. When he asked about it, they handed him a letter from Benny. Mary had called him and reminded him about the lease that the boys had, and she had also paid the month's rent. Happy Christmas it said. Roger was stunned, but also welcomed the lack of cold in the loft. It was about time they were warm. 


	18. Chapter 18

Death of a Muse-Chapter 18

Legal Disclaimer- They were crafted, dreamt about, written and rewritten originally by Jonathan Larson. I only take them to play with them; I will put them back when I am done. Thank you.

Author's Note-I owe Sweetie Pie a cookie for this one. Thanks. For my reviewers, well…I have more to come. Muhahaha! Please review, it keeps me sane. And I am glad you like it.

* * *

As Mary's disclosure had shocked Mark, she led them to a series of seats that was somewhat private, hidden in the lobby's Christmas decorations.

"Wait a minute," Mark was stunned, "You're inheriting eight million dollars?"

"Like it or not," Mary was bitter, "My mother hates it, because she can't touch it, the way my gram wrote the will. Not until I'm 25, though, she's going to try and try to control me and in turn, control the money."

"Mary, why didn't you tell me?" Mark asked, trying not to let his jaw hang open in shock.

"Mark, it's not everyday you tell someone, 'hey, I'm going to be outrageously wealthy, be my friend'," Mary replied, "Money is an evil that I don't need. All I wanted to do for a very long time is dance, Mark. You and I aren't about money, I hope."

Mark was somewhere between stunned and completely shocked. Mary Blaine had been a penniless ballerina to him until five minutes ago. The attitude she had toward money was warming toward him, he understood her feelings toward her parents, and it was a deep feeling that they had in common, but her not mentioning the money aspect bothered him. His lack of money was embarrassing but he knew that she would pay when she could. They had always been fair when it came to money between them. Family money was something different. Then again, they had never spoken of it.

"Mark?" Mary asked, staring at his reaction, "You okay?"

Mark's stare and silence had gotten to her. Sadly, she looked at him.

"Damn, Money does matter to you," Mary shook her head, "You're mad that I didn't say anything."

Mark snapped out of it. He looked at her with sadness in his eyes.

"No," Mark's reply was soft, "Sorry. It is stunning to hear that your girlfriend is going to be a millionaire, but, it's not you. Hell no, it's not you. Money is one thing, Mary, but it's not everything. I hope to hell you don't think that I am that fucking shallow. But, your mother is worried about you as well. Mary, think about it, you just went through a whole of trauma. Your mom probably just wants to make sure that you are okay."

"Her version of OK," Mary began, "Is me in Boston. Mark, I know you mean well, I do, but, I have had 'People only want you for your money' beaten into you for most of my life. I think that's the main reason I turned to dance. It's a solo profession."

"Hello Paranoia," Mark replied, his eyes meeting hers, "I love you for you, Mary."

Mary's smile was grim, but light was returning to her eyes. It made him feel a little better.

"Thanks," Mary said, "The hard part is proving it to dear old mom."

"That's not your love to prove, Mary," Mark said, "You know that I love you, she needs to see it."

"Mark," Mary took his hand, "God, I hope it's that simple, you know that I love you. Mom, on the other hand is all about what you can provide for me."

"She's all about commitment and money?" Mark asked, "We've only know each other for about a month."

"I know," Mary replied, "She doesn't get that. Not that I have given her much reason to. I'm sorry to put you, the first real boyfriend in my life, through that which is my mother."

"Okay, I can deal with this, you ready to call her?" Mark asked, getting up.

"No need," Mary said, taking Mark's offered hand, "Here she comes."

She nodded to the woman walking across the lobby. The resemblance that Mary held to her mother was obvious. The older woman had the same flame red hair that Mary had, cut short and stylish for a woman in her late forties. The green eyes that lit up when she saw Mary were startling familiar, but she didn't move like Mary. She moved like a woman whose burdens only lightened her frame. Mary literally shook as she approached them, her hand strongly in Mark's. She squeezed his hand again, scared of the consequences. Mark squeezed back, knowing how nervous she was.

Margret Blaine approached them. She stopped in front of Mary.

"I didn't think I would find you here, hello Mary," she said, kissing Mary on the cheek, "And who might this be?"

Mary had stiffened, but let Mark's hand go.

"Mark, Mark Cohen, my boyfriend," Mary said, "He's been fantastic to me the past few weeks. It was his number that you called me at."

Margret took his outstretched hand.

"Hello, Mr. Cohen," she began, "Thank you for watching out for my daughter."

"It's been my pleasure, Mrs. Blaine," Mark said, shaking her hand, "Mary is a very special person."

"Indeed," Margret replied, "Her family finds her to be very special. How are you dear?"

"Actually, I'm fine," Mary replied, "Do you want to sit down Mother, or will we have this fight standing up?"

"Mary, I didn't intend for us to fight," Margret began, "I just want to make sure that you are okay. You didn't call us when Erin..."

"I was a little busy," Mary interrupted, sitting down, Margret and Mark sitting as well, "Talking to cops and making sure that you're legally okay to leave can take up your time."

"You could have called Andrew," Margret continued, taking a second to look at Mark, "The family attorney. He would have been happy to come down and help. It's not like you murdered her, you just found her body. They surely didn't suspect you."

"No, but there are procedures," Mary replied, "Mark got me a fantastic attorney who took care of everything. Her name is Joanne Jefferson, graduate of Harvard Law. She and Mark were even able to take care of the murderer after he threatened me and my friends."

"Mr. McCardle was trash," Margret said, "You think she was positive?"

"The coroner confirmed it, Mother," Mary replied, "She was HIV positive and it's more than likely that she contracted it from him."

"And you're still?" Margret asked.

"A virgin and HIV free mother," Mary answered, annoyed, "Nothing more."

"Sorry to touch a nerve," Margret began, "But there's so much going around these days, I want you to stay safe, sweetheart. So, what do you do for a living Mr. Cohen?"

"I'm a filmmaker," Mark said, "I met Mary when I was doing a movie on Christmas in New York."

"Christmas as seen through the eyes of a Jew?" Margret asked, nodding, "Interesting. Overdone, but interesting."

"Agreed, but Mary and my friends helped me see even more about Christmas and the Holidays than I ever thought I could," Mark continued, letting the religious dig drop, "It will be airing on Buzz Line, Christmas Eve."

"Buzz Line," Margret said, "Oh, that TV show that does stories on what they think is reality."

Mark nodded, giving Mary a sideways glance. She was upset, but she kept the rage set on low.

"Mark's done a film for them already, and it won a local Emmy," Mary added, "He's got a very promising future."

"So do you, I saw the write up on the ballet from last night," Margret said, "You know you're going to have to think past the ABT, Mary. They really don't deserve you."

"Mother, they do, and I don't want to talk about them, why are you here?" Mary cut her short.

"To see how you are," Margret said, "Honey, I am worried about you. When you didn't call about Erin, I knew that you were going to need someone from home to come and get you."

"And what, drag me out of my life and off the stage?" Mary was angry at the thought, "Mother, I'm fine. Yes, it sucks that Erin is dead. She was my friend, my confidant, and my roommate. I found her, yes. I knew that she was having troubles with her boyfriend, yes. That's how I met Mark."

"Really? You thought he was her boyfriend?" Margret asked, "He doesn't look like a murderer."

"I know," Mary smiled slightly, "Mark isn't. I found that out quickly. Mark brought me into his life when I needed a friend, Mother. He thought I was Erin when they mentioned the murder on the news. He dropped everything he was working on and raced down to see me to make sure that I was alive, let alone make sure that I was okay. He and his friends have been looking after me ever since. They are the ones who checked up on me and made sure I didn't fall apart. I stand on my own with them. I'm not someone to crumple."

"Mary's a part of our family now," Mark added, taking Mary's hand, "She is loved by all of us."

"That I can see," Margret said, "But what about her future, Mark? Can you travel with her to make sure that she eats, sleeps and does everything she needs to be perfect on stage? I don't know. Can you make sure that she manages her money correctly so that when this dance thing stops she can still make a living? I know you've already seen her through an emotional time; the fact that she's okay is testament to that. But Mary's got a bright future ahead of her. One I don't want to see clouded by mistakes in judgment."

"Mother, he's my boyfriend," Mary said, "Not my husband. We're not even there yet."

"But he needs to know how bright your future is, Mary," her tone was cold, "Mr. Cohen, are you good enough for her?"

Mark tried his best not to glare at the woman. Mary squeezed his hand and carefully watched his look. While she was mortified that her mother even suggested that Mark wasn't good enough for her, she really didn't want to see how Mark was going to blow.

Mark had a moment between rages, his own fury and realized instantly he had gone from seeing red to deep black. He took a deep breath, let the emotion clear then found the right words, political correctness be damned.

"Yes, Mrs. Blaine, I am," Mark said, his voice ice, "But the only person I have to prove it to is Mary, not you."

Mary smiled. It was the perfect thing to say to her mother. Mrs. Blaine was a bit shocked as she looked at Mary, then at Mark.

"He really is perfect for you," Mrs. Blaine said, "He's just as rude as you are."

Mary looked at Mark. Their eyes met and without speaking, she knew what she had to do. She got up from her chair and read Mark's reaction perfectly.

"There's a ticket at the theater if you want to watch the show Mother, but I do believe," she got up as Mark did, taking his hand, "That we are done here. Expect the messages you leave to be screened. Nice to see you and Merry Christmas."

She kissed her mother on the cheek.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Blaine," Mark said, as Mary turned to go.

"Same here," Mrs. Blaine said, "Hope to meet you again sometime."

Mark met her eyes and noticed the same fury in them that Mary had. This was something he couldn't get more involved in, and Mary was no where near having a longer discussion about it. They would talk eventually, but not now. She needed to cool off.

She had bolted from the Hilton and was already heading down the street. He knew from the way she walked that she was angry. Her grace had left her. She was already far ahead of him.

"MARY!" he called out, trying to get her to stop speed walking, "Slow down baby."

"Damn that woman," Mary spat, "She had no right to ask you that."

Mark stopped her and put his hands on her shoulders in a vain attempt to calm her down. She looked at him, taking a deep breath as he took her chin in his hands and kissed her. As they broke the kiss, Mary's rage was gone, but she was upset. She looked at him with nearly tear filled eyes.

"You're right," he said, "And you were so calm. I'm impressed."

"I don't tend to scream in public places," she replied after a moment, "Unless I need to. Thank you for being here."

"I aim to please," Mark replied, taking her hand in his as they headed for the subway, "You want to go home or back to the theater?"

"While I shouldn't shirk my duties to the theater, I think home would do me good right now," Mary replied, "You know you were perfect with her."

Mark shook his head.

"No, I wasn't," he replied, "She loves you, that's obvious, but she's not seeing you as a responsible 24 year old. That pissed me off. I lost my temper."

"Mark, you told her more than she wanted to hear," Mary put an arm around his back, "No one has ever done that for me."

Mark stopped.

"Really?" he asked.

Mary sighed.

"Only Gram did, and she did that when they first wanted me at the ABT, I had to wait until I was 20 for my mother to figure it out, I was the ballerina, she was the mother," she began as they got on the subway, "Mark, she was living my life through me. I had to leave; I didn't know who I was anymore. I was so disengaged with my own life; I had forgotten how to live."

"And now you're finally living," Mark settled in next to her as they sat down, "She can't handle it."

"Clarity comes afterward," Mary stated, "I mean it Mark, thank you."

Mark didn't answer; he just pulled her in closer and hugged her. She responded and they enjoyed the quiet of the subway for the ride back to Avenue B.


	19. Chapter 19

Death of a Muse-Chapter 19

Legal disclaimer-Larson yes, me no.

Author's Note-My thanks for the reviews. Dennis Shaw, get out of my head, there's only room in there for me, Muhahaha! Sweetie-Huge virtual cookie on the way. Next few days will be insane, please understand if lack of update. Review please. It keeps me sane.

* * *

When they returned to the loft, Mary's surprise had been finished. Roger had gone onto rehearsal, his new song done, so Mark and Mary had the loft to themselves for a short while. She kept an eye on the time, knowing full well that she would have to go on to the theater in about an hour, but wanting to spend time with Mark after the emotional time with her own mother.

He hadn't noticed what she had done, so she smiled at him, walked a circle in the main room then pointed up. Mark followed her finger and stared. For the first time in years he realized that there was no draft in the loft.

"Mary, you didn't," he said, "How the hell did you get Benny to do that?"

"I reminded him that you guys had paid the rent," she replied, pulling Mark into a hug, "He owed you a habitable place to live, it's in the lease, Marcus, darling."

"I have tried and tried to get him to stick to it, but he kept saying that only a lawyer," Mark stopped, "You didn't."

"No, I didn't, but I wanted to," Mary said, "Benny was great though, considering the other thing I did. And I don't want to hear no, so take it as the Christmas gift it is."

"What did you do?" Mark asked.

"Paid January's rent," Mary looked at him, "And it wasn't with the Blaine monies, it was from what I made with the ABT."

"Mary, you can't do that," Mark protested, "That money is yours."

"And now it's paid the rent," Mary countered, "Mark, consider it a gift. I want it to stay that way. You and I are not about money, I told you that. Besides, I know how much you do for this household. You made me a part of it when you said to stay. It's my contribution not just for a roof over my head, it's for the sanity that you guys helped me keep in the past few weeks."

Mark looked at her. The green eyes that met his were far from the anger that he saw earlier. She was happy.

"No, we're not about money," Mark said, "I just don't want to have to depend on you."

"Don't ever expect to. The way my mother is working on the will, I probably won't have the money. You don't have to, this is a gift, Mark," Mary said, "Now just say thank you and we move on."

Mark drew her into a kiss.

"Thank you," he said, breaking the kiss, "and please don't do it again without discussing it with me."

"You're welcome," she smiled, "I promise I will, okay?"

"Okay," Mark said, "Besides, I did get paid for my movie."

"What did you wind up calling it?" Mary asked, turning from him.

"That's for Christmas Eve," Mark said, "I'm borrowing Collins' TV so that we all can watch it."

"I'm home early on Christmas Eve," Mary said, "They aren't having an evening performance after all."

"Really?" Mark asked, "That's fantastic."

"I know, I was going to surprise you, but seeing what you worked so hard on finally on the air, well, that's a big enough surprise," Mary said, gathering her dance bag, "The worst part is that it's time to go."

Mark stopped her and kissed her again.

"Dance like you mean it tonight," he said, "I'll be here when you get home."

Mary smiled, the first genuine smile Mark had seen in days.

"With that knowledge, I will."

* * *

Roger came home to find Mark sitting in the loft, staring out the window, occasionally drinking the hot tea that he had grown accustomed to seeing him with. Mark was in shirt sleeves, something hard to believe since they had gotten used to the chill in the loft. Roger found the room surprisingly warm.

"Mary's doing," Mark said, answering the question that Roger hadn't asked.

"I know, it's just different," Roger said, "You think she knows what she did."

"Take away one of our major complaints? Yeah," Mark laughed, "I thanked her, but told to at least talk it over with us before she talked to Benny."

"His reply was amazing," Roger said, "Have you read the letter from him?"

"No," Mark said, "What did he say?"

"Merry Christmas," Roger smiled, "It's one of those rare moments where Benjamin Coffin the Third had a heart."

"He still does, Roger," Mark replied, "I'll never forget the ride to the theater."

"Yeah, and we did talk," Roger said, "But something about him is still a little untrustworthy. I'm trying though."

"I know you are and I appreciate it," Mark nodded, still staring out the window, "Hey, you and Mimi need to stick around on Christmas Eve for about an hour before you go out anywhere."

"What's up?" Roger asked, joining him on the ledge.

"Believe it or not, Buzz Line is airing the movie," Mark responded, "Christmas Eve. I thought a little celebrating would be in order, Mary's off early, Collins is bringing his TV and Chang, I invited the girls, they're bringing some snacks, and thanks to Mary, I now have the cash for a nice meal at the Life."

"Sounds like a plan," Roger replied, "How did meeting Mrs. Blaine go?"

Mark took a moment to answer the question. The look he gave Roger as he sipped his tea said volumes. Roger studied the look that Mark gave him. It wasn't an easy meeting, he could tell.

"I understand Mary a whole lot more now," Mark replied, "Her mother is a piece of work. She actually asked me what I had to offer Mary for her future."

"You guys are only dating, not engaged," Roger stated, "Wow. Mary must have been pissed."

"She did everything calmly, but she was pretty mad," Mark's replied was muffled by his sipping his tea, "She's not really talking about it, but I think she's going to dance it out tonight. Supposedly her mother is going to the show, but I don't know. She's got more going on than I ever imagined."

"What?" Roger asked, "You want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," Mark replied, "First off, Mary is more connected than you think."

Roger got up and walked to the kitchen, looking for tea as well.

"How connected?" Roger asked.

"Have you ever heard of the Boston Blaines?" Mark continued.

He watched Roger's look.

"She's due to inherit eight million dollars," Mark stated, waiting for Roger to have the similar reaction that Mark had, "I know I felt the same way."

"That's shocking," Roger replied, "But it does explain a lot."

"How?"

"Her level of trust and her complete and total dedication to dance," Roger said, "Remember that she was completely dedicated to ballet until she met you."

"Yeah, I know, but," Mark started.

"But nothing," Roger interrupted, "She spent ten years of her life dedicated to the perfection of ballet. That's devotion, Mark. Like you with film. You know every thing you do when it comes to filming a scene. She sees it the same way on stage. Ballet is about perfection, and she's right on the mark with nearly every move. She's a perfectionist, but she's never had to worry about the rent, where her next meal was coming from, if she was going to be able to live the next morning."

"I know, I know," Mark replied, "She also has had to deal with not being able to trust a soul, thanks to the money. She even said that she has to protect herself from people who think they can be her friend for the money."

"Like I said, explains a lot," Roger replied, sipping his own tea, then adding sugar, "She has very little trust of people. You, Marcus, changed all that."

"She trusts me, I know that," Mark glared at the nickname, "I saw her with her mother. Roger, this goes pretty deep. She won't talk about it, but something happened."

"Yeah, that you can see," Roger looked at him, "She reminds me a lot of you. She's so detached it's almost like she's walking through life. At least that was noticeable when she first met you. After that whole McCardle business, she's engaging."

"I'm not detached," Mark replied.

"You were," Roger sat next to him, "After all the shit I put you through, it's understandable. It's called protecting yourself. She's getting you to engage, though. I like this, you're a new Mark."

"I'm not new, just in love," Mark said, "Anyway, what the hell do I do now?"

"That one is yours to figure out, Mark," Roger said, gently picking up his guitar.

Flexing his still bandaged hand he started to strum it. It needed tuning, but Roger was gently working on it. Grimacing slightly he played an old favorite.

"If you're going to start on Mussetta's waltz, I'm leaving," Mark stated, getting up.

"Hey, don't start, it's the first time in a few days that I can do this," Roger started, "And I do know other music…"

"Play it then, Mussetta is overplayed, Mr. Rock Star," Mark laughed as Roger gave him a one finger salute.

"Don't be a jerk, Cohen," Roger said, switching to 'Stairway to Heaven', "She does give a damn about you. Just know that."

Mark turned.

"What did she tell you?" he asked, watching the musician work.

"She has a lot on her mind, Mark," Roger stopped and put the guitar down, "She loves you. It's freaking her out, but she really loves you. She also loves the ballet."

"I know that," Mark said, "It's her life."

"And that's the point, Cohen, her life is the ballet. She's trying to figure out where you fit into it," Roger said, "Mimi went through this with me."

"And you with her," Mark replied, "Shit."

"And you don't realize that you're doing the same goddamn thing, Mark," Roger said, "At least you're not running away."

"You think she might?" Mark asked.

"Maybe," Roger said, "She's so confused, Mark, I don't know what she's going to do. She doesn't want to hurt you."

Mark was shocked by the admission. Mary had shared a lot with Roger. He wished she had shared it with him.

"I don't what to do," Mark said, "I told her I would wait, whatever it took."

"Good move," Roger replied, "My suggestion, be patient."

"Would you be this way if it was Mimi?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, I would," Roger replied, "And Mimi is like that, she just hides it better."

Mark smiled.

"So, what time are you playing tonight?" Mark asked, changing the subject.

"10:30," Roger replied, "What, you thinking of coming?"

"And bringing Mary, if it's cool," Mark said, "We should be going out and doing things that couples do."

"Well then, I look forward to it," Roger said, "I have to go get ready."

Mark went and sat back down on the window ledge. He had to get ready to.

* * *

It was a long night for Mary, and her days of not being in class were beginning to show. She hit every step with perfection, but her line was off, she didn't look like it flowed. Her ballet had been effortless up until this night, and she knew it was from the lack of classes.

As she finished the final bow of the night and headed for the dressing room, she saw the look of the director who was heading toward her and stopped him in his tracks.

"I know, don't even start, I'll be in class at 9 tomorrow," she said, "I have had so much going on lately that I have missed class, I am sorry, but I will be there."

The director didn't answer, only smiled.

"Thank you, you saved me from having to say it, but Mary," he began, "Considering all that you have been through, it was a great performance tonight."

"Thank you, I will improve it though," she said, "I am sorry. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," he said, "And get some form of sleep, will you?"

Mary sighed and headed to change. As she did, she couldn't help but notice that someone was waiting for her in the hall. Mark. She ran to the stage door, peeked out to make sure no one else was watching and kissed him passionately.

"And hello to you too," Mark said as they broke apart, "How was tonight?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Mary said, "You want to go eat?"

"No, I'd rather go drink," she replied, taking his hand, "Let me go change and I'll meet you out here in ten?"

"You bet," Mark smiled, "And you look fantastic."

"Thanks."

When Mary emerged several minutes later, her long hair was braided behind her head, her skirt perfect and the long shirt she wore made her figure look amazing.

"Wow," Mark replied, "You look stunning."

"Thank you, and now where are we going to drink?" Mary asked, "It's been that kind of night."

"No problem, let's go where Roger is playing," Mark suggested, "Thought you might want a night of music that wasn't classical."

"Right idea, let's make it an early one, though," Mary replied, "I have to make sure that I am in class at 9."

"No problem," Mark said, putting a arm around her waist, "If you want to talk about it…"

"I don't, but thanks," Mary said, "Let's just go forget about the outside world for a little while, okay?"

"Done."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Legal disclaimer- Jonathan Larson's estate owns, I just rent without paying.

Author's Note-Thank you all for the reviews and patience in my delays in updating. Over 100 reviews just isn't a goal, it was a dream fufilled by all of you and I do appreciate it. Happy New Year-I had quite the one at my job. Yeah! Parades done, sigh. Oh, please, oh please review this one. I'm not too sure the way this is going.

* * *

Mark and Mary entered Mickey's tavern looking like a typical New York couple on a date. Mark had his arm around her waist, hers around his, and the look of contentment you only see on a happy couple. Mary's dark mood had lifted. 

Roger's band was already deep into their first set. He was deep into a Billy Joel cover and the crowd was dancing. Mimi found them as they entered and got them up to the front. Roger turned toward them, caught Mark's eye and smiled. Mary grinned at him and he winked, keeping up with the band.

"Baby," Mark leaned into her, "What do you want to drink?"

"Vodka," Mary replied, "On the rocks."

Mark also took Mimi's order and headed to the bar. The joy of getting paid that week meant he had a little money and he was going to spend it on a little fun. It had been too long. When he looked back at Roger, the band had gone into "Piano Man" one of Roger's favorites to sing, and when he added "And Mickey at the bar is a friend of mine." The bartender took a moment to ring the bell. Mark laughed, it was a scene you couldn't film, it was just to perfect to be put on film, and it only had to stay in memory.

He got the drinks, and returned to where the ladies were dancing. Luckily he had dispensed the drinks when a hearty slap on the back came out of nowhere to include a large bear hug from Collins. He and Chang had joined the girls when he was at the bar. Mark knew in a moment he would wind up see Joanne and Maureen, the group usually showed that way.

Maureen's smile lit the room moments later. They were all dancing to the songs that the band played, and stayed together. Mickey knew that Roger was inviting the gang and made sure that they had a reserved table, so they all wound up at it. Maureen and Joanne were hand in hand at the table, Collins was dancing with Chang as Roger sang, while Mark and Mary were dancing like no one else was on the dance floor.

Mimi sat were Roger could see her. They had talked about tonight, knowing how good it would be to get the gang together. Since Angel's death and the drama that followed it, it was becoming more and more important for them to have fun times, they needed the happy thoughts to keep them all going. She also found herself watching Mark and Mary. Mark had been so serious in the past few months, making sure that Roger and Mimi took care of themselves, it was perfect to see him so blissfully happy with Mary. It was hard to believe that they hadn't had sex, they danced like they knew each other's bodies perfectly, and Mary was great to watch with him. They were a couple in love.

Mary kissed Mark gently, her hands running along the back of his neck.

"You gonna tell me about tonight?" he asked.

"I've been taking too much time off," Mary replied, "It's noticed. They're upset with me, and I'm a bit upset with myself."

"Oh," Mark response included him dipping her, "I guess this means I won't see you for a while, back to classes' right?"

"Yeah," Mary replied, "Life of a ballerina, class, show, class, show, rehearsal."

"I'm still in there, right?" Mark asked.

"I'll probably see my paus de deux partner more than you for the next few days, but," Mary laughed, watching him mock frown, "Hell yes, Mark. You are a huge part of my life."

"Good," Mark kissed her, "I don't think I could handle it."

"You and me both, baby," Mary said, "I am going back into all of it tomorrow, but, I do get some time off after Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to me?" Mark laughed, "I like this present."

"Aren't you supposed to get eight of them?" Mary tilted her head and applauded as the song ended, "This is just one of them."

"It is?" Mark asked, "I can't wait to see what the others are."

Roger's band stopped and announced their next set time. The usual silence occurred as the crowd headed for the bar and the jukebox restarted. Mark and Mary headed for the table, joining the other couples. Roger was already there, Mimi in his lap.

"Well, they finally join us," Roger teased, "How you doing Mary?"

"Great," she said, downing her vodka, "Nice set."

"A little bit of our stuff, a little of local folk," Roger smiled, "How was tonight?"

Mary settled into her seat.

"Could have been better and got noticed," she answered, Mark sitting next to her, "You'll hear me heading off early tomorrow."

"No rest for the wicked?" Maureen asked.

"No, my technique is a bit off, nothing a few classes can't fix," Mary replied, "You know what I'm talking about?"

Maureen nodded. She did know. Joanne looked at her.

"When is the last time you took a class?" Joanne asked Maureen.

"Last week," Maureen replied.

"Honey, that was driving school," Joanne replied, smiling as the table started to laugh.

"Hey, hey, review is always good," Maureen replied, "Right Mary?"

"Right!" Mary replied, sipping on her drink, "And class just makes us perfect."

"Right!" Maureen said, "But I am no where near a perfect driver."

"Which makes having a lawyer for a girlfriend perfect," Mary grinned, "How's your hand, Rog?"

Roger held it up. The stitches were out, and it looked like it would heal nicely.

"Keep it clean, will you?" Mary continued, "Nasty infections suck."

Roger smiled. Mary was more animated than he was used to.

"Yes, Mother," he laughed, "How long you staying tonight?"

Mary glanced at Mark who was sipping on his own drink.

"I don't know how long we are staying Marcus?" she asked.

"Let's see, its 11 now," Mark began, checking his watch, "You know how long you need for sleep, so you tell me."

"What I need to do is dance with my boyfriend," Mary interrupted, "I'll sleep when I am dead."

Roger gave Mary a sideways glance. Maybe it was the vodka, but she was looser than he had ever seen her. It was great to see Mark's reaction though. Maureen had been so loud and so much the life of the party, even if she didn't need to be, to see Mary this way was unusual. She had seemed more the friendly, quiet dancer. Maybe this was a side to her personality that they were just seeing. Mark's smile made him happy. He hadn't seen this since Maureen was steadily dating him.

"Baby, you want to dance?" Mark asked.

"With you, yes," Mary grinned.

Mark jumped up and started to dance to the jukebox, Mary and the rest of the group started laughing. Roger got up and grabbed his guitar, which he knew was going to twinge to play but he knew he should. The rest of the band witnessed Mark's sudden dance and decided to provide him with live background music.

While Mark's dance was sudden and a little on the goofy side, Mary couldn't resist. She started to join him. Mark tangoed with her, Joanne and Maureen joining them. Roger kept laughing as he played the guitar, which he soon gave up, due the pain, but found himself grabbing Mimi with his good hand. They all wound up dancing to the band that was just having a little jam session. They switched from a tango to the barkeep's favorite kind of music, the Irish Jig.

Mary switched with the music as well, Mark laughing as she began to show him the steps of a jig, while she went with it herself. They soon found themselves dancing on the bar, which Mickey was actually cool with. Mary went into a full jig, lost in the music and the dance. Mark cursed himself for not bringing his camera, but knew that he would never forget the image of her dancing on the bar.

The music ended, the crowd clapped and Mary was helped from the bar by Mickey. He gave her fresh vodka and kissed her hand.

"Thank you lass," he said, handing her his glass, "Mark's a lucky man."

Mary blushed. She hadn't realized that she had gathered a crowd. She got down from the bar with Mark's ready hand. Mark drew her into a hug.

"That was fantastic," he said into her ear.

"I loved that," she said, "But we had better get home, I do need to sleep."

They left after saying goodbye to everyone. Hand in hand they headed out of the bar, toward the loft that Mary was beginning to feel was home. Mark held her closely to him and they walked as one.

The only problem was they weren't alone. As they got closer to the loft, the streets got darker, and Mark felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He knew the feeling, they were being watched. He took Mary's arm and held it hard, knowing that she was not aware of what he felt, but it was too late.

Four guys surrounded them quickly. Mark tried to run, but it was too late. Mary was grabbed quickly, her instincts a little blurred by the vodka, but she fought them. They tried to overpower her but she was like wild animal. Mark turned around, and started to help her fight them as the blackness hit.

_Pavement?_ Mark wondered as he hit the ground.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Legal Disclaimer- Larsons own, I rent.

Authors Note-Yeah, I know, evil fanfic writer…hee hee. Couldn't resist it thought, and it's all going to fit together in the long run..To my readers and reviewers, Thank you. The reviews keep me going, and I appreciate it more than you know. For those who read Echoes, thank you even more. I'm sorry I hung you in the last chapter. I have my reasons, they are all starting to fit together now. Please Review. I appreciate it.

* * *

"Mark?" the voice was distant, but he did hear it.

"Mark? Can you hear me buddy?" the voice asked again, this time a little closer.

"Damnit, Mark, can you hear me?" the voice asked, this time he could tell it was male.

"Roger?" he asked, his voice somewhere between a creak and a whisper.

"Mark, stay with me," Roger said, putting his good hand into Mark's, "You're in the E.R. at Bellview."

"Why?" Mark asked, slowly opening his eyes.

Bright light wasn't his friend, it hurt to look at it so he closed his eyes. The antiseptic smell and that sound of suffering only found in hospitals attacked his senses. He was where Roger said he was and it wasn't some horrible dream. Fuck.

"Mark?" Roger asked again.

"Yeah," Mark's reply was clearer this time, but it was obvious that he was in pain.

"Stay here man, you went away again," Roger was eerily calm.

"Nope, still here, light hurts," Mark whimpered, "What the hell happened?"

"You and Mary were jumped," Roger was blunt and quick, knowing what Mark's next question would be, "She's okay, she's on the other side of the E.R."

"How did you?" Mark was confused, Roger was at the bar twenty minutes ago, how did he get here.

"She told them to call the bar, they let me in because you were asking for me," Roger continued, answering the questions he knew Mark was going to ask," You've been out a while, they think you have a concussion. Mary does, it's minor, and she's also broken her hand."

"Fighting off those guys," Mark's memory was slowly coming back, "I was helping her when the pavement got in the way."

"That's what she said, and both of you have the bruises to show for it, you should have just given in, but, from what Mary said, they got her wallet, not much in there, but she had put her insurance card elsewhere," Roger said, "You guys are very lucky."

Mark tried to open his eyes again. This time the light wasn't so bad, but he put a hand to his eyes. The headache that was living in the back of his brain was beginning to rear its ugly head. The throbbing began to start, but it was better than the stab of pain he had when he first opened his eyes.

"Hey, take it slowly, will ya?" Roger asked, "They wanted me to tell them when you were awake…"

"I'm awake," Mark said, trying to sit up, "Go check on Mary, will you? You know Bellview, I've waited hours here for you."

"And Collins and Benny, I know. She's fine," Roger said, "She's got insurance so they got to her a little faster than you, but they have checked you out. They ran tests on you while you were out."

"Roger, how long have I been here?" Mark asked, confused.

"It's 7:30am," Roger replied, "The gang is out in the waiting room."

"Aw, shit," Mark muttered, "I can see it now, Maureen and Joanne are fighting and Collins is wearing a groove in the floor…"

"Mr. Cohen?" a harried, yet ready doctor interrupted, coming up to them.

"Call me Mark," he replied, trying again to sit up and succeeding, "Where are my glasses Roger?"

Roger handed them to him. He put them on, wondering where the tape on the bridge of his glasses had come from as the room came into clearer focus. He was in a corner of the busy E.R. People worse off were spread throughout the room, he could see Mary sitting up on the other side of the room though. Her look back at him a mix of sorrow and relief.

"How do you feel Mark?" the doctor asked, watching his reactions to the room, "Do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is?

"I have a headache, but, pretty okay from there," he replied, "Roger said something about a concussion. It's December 19, no, the 20th, and I'm in Bellview's E.R."

"Our tests indicate that you have a minor concussion, you need to rest," the doctor continued, "It's not recommended that you do too much strenuous activity in the next few days, but I can let you out of here. That okay with you?"

"Yeah, it is, what about Mary Blaine, who I came in with?" he asked.

"She's been awake the whole time," the doctor replied, "Your concussion is a little more serious than hers, but, she's got a broken hand from fighting the muggers off. She's been a great help to the cops as well."

"That's good to hear," Roger said, gently helping Mark as he tried to stand up, "Mark, you think you should be doing that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine Rog, thanks though," Mark said, holding onto the bed to steady himself, "Can I see her?"

"She's been asking about you as well," the doctor smiled, "If you feel like you can, and your friend is willing to help you…"

Roger's arm went around Mark's shoulders before the doctor finished the suggestion. Mark gave him a quick thank you look as they started over to where Mary was. Mark kept walking steady, Roger's arm a good support as his feet felt ground. Mary had her eyes closed as they approached. Mark sat on the edge of the bed as she opened them.

"Hey good looking," he said, watching her reaction, "I understand someone won a prize fight here?"

Mary laughed and opened her eyes. Mark met her gaze as she reached forward to hug him, her left hand in a brace. He gathered her in his arms gently, both of them grunted as bruises met bruises, but happy to be in each others arms.

"I thought you were dead when you went down," she whispered in his ear.

"I don't die that easily," Mark replied, "Thank you for being the tough one, baby."

"Anytime," Mary said, sighing, "How are you?"

"Concussion, from what the doctor said, but I can get out of here, if they are okay with it, you?"

"Broke my hand, and that's okay, as long as it is not my foot, we're okay," Mary winced, pulling back to look at him, "Hi, Roger."

"Hey honey," Roger smiled at her, putting his good hand in her good hand, "Since the two of you are together, I think I should tell the gang…"

"We'll be out in a few," Mary interrupted, "I want the hell out of here too."

Mark smiled through the pain in his head. He ran his thumb down the side of her face where he noticed the tear starting to fall. He gently hugged her again, letting her head rest against his chest, as the emotions of the past few hours fled from her body. She didn't cry, just relaxed, letting her tension go.

"We're okay, Mary, just remember, we're okay."

* * *

Within minutes they were okay to go home. Roger and Mimi had been given instructions on what to look for if something was going wrong with Mark and Mary and they were told the news that Mary didn't want to hear, she was off her feet for at least a week. It made her upset, but she knew that she couldn't dance with a concussion. Her balance was screwy already, on her toes would be much worse. The relief of the group was instant as they emerged from the E.R., Collins giving gentle hugs, Chang excited that they were okay.

Joanne insisted on driving Mark and Mary back to the loft since she had her car out in the lot. Collins and Chang, seeing that they were okay went on to their jobs. Maureen offered to pick up breakfast for them and bring it back to the loft. Mary asked for one stop on the way home, one she knew she would regret, but work had to know.

Roger joined her on the walk into the lobby of the ABT. She knew the director would be in, and she knew that she looked bad enough for them to understand that she wasn't going to come in. She also had the note from the E.R. doc about her hand and the concussion. She was out for the next few shows of the run of the Nutcracker.

The director had been upset that she wasn't going to be there for the next few shows, but to see how bad she looked, he knew that what she needed was rest. He offered to have the theater nurse look in on her, but she refused. Slowly and painfully she made her way out of the theater, Roger steadying her when she needed it. They went back out to the car, Roger joining Joanne in the front of the car, while Mark and Mary stretched out in the back, squeezing Mimi into a corner of the car, but she didn't mind. She held Mary's good hand.

Luckily it wasn't that long of a drive to the loft. Joanne dropped them off, her need to work overriding her desire to make sure they got settled, but threatened Roger with a lawsuit if he didn't call with updates. He and Mimi slowly but carefully got them upstairs, stopping on the stairs for Mark to sit when he got winded. They finally got upstairs and into the living room, as Maureen arrived with breakfast.

Roger took it from her gratefully as Mary apologized and went into Mark's bedroom to lie down. Mark joined her, their joint exhaustion beginning to show. Maureen stayed, her knowledge of concussions being that she knew that they had to be watched, so the remaining bohemians started to take turns keeping an eye on Mark. Mary's concussion wasn't as bad, she could sleep without them worrying about if she had any problems, but they had to keep waking Mark up to make sure that nothing had progressed with his injury.

They ate breakfast in relative silence. Roger couldn't help but reply the last few hours in his mind. The phone call had been frightening, Mary knowing that Roger would want to know what had happened and where to find them. Sheer luck still had the gang at the bar, the band wasn't done yet, but Mickey understanding when he heard about the couple getting mugged. Roger sitting in Belleview, knowing that Mary was okay but seeing Mark so deathly pale and out of it was terrifying. He knew at that point it was Mark had gone through when Roger was high. Mark was not himself then, but the fact that he spoke coherently before he went to bed let him know his best friend was okay. He couldn't and wouldn't lose him. That just wasn't going to happen.

"Roger, why don't you get some sleep, I'll wake Mark up in two hours, k?" she said, sipping on her coffee, "You know I can do it."

"Thanks, baby," Roger replied, kissing her on the cheek, "I think I might just take you up on it."

Maureen looked at her and smiled.

"And I'll keep you awake," she added, "We'll talk about girl stuff."

Mimi smiled as Roger got up. He was beat. He walked over to the room that he and Mimi shared, gently opening the door to the room that Mark and Mary were sharing. Both of them were asleep, it was easy to see, and they were both snoring. Mary was curled up on Mark's chest, and he was curled around her, protecting her in his sleep. Roger turned back to the girls, flashed the ok sign and went on to bed.

* * *

Mark looked up, and realized that Mimi was shaking him. He was awake, and his head hurt. The light outside the window screamed 10 am, and he knew that Mimi had to do it, but it sucked to be ripped out of the dream he was having.

"Yeah, Meems," Mark whispered, "I'm okay. Thanks. I'll go back to sleep now."

She kissed him on the forehead as she quietly left, Mark in turn settling into the bed, making sure he didn't disturb Mary. She was breathing, he kept checking her as he tried to get back to sleep, and gently making sure her hand was angled well for her position in sleep. He didn't want her to wake up hurting. He settled back into his pillow then closed his eyes.

"Damnit, Mark wake up," Roger said, gently tapping Mark on the shoulder, "You're scaring the hell out of me."

Mark's eyes snapped open. Mimi had just been talking to him.

"What time is it?" Mark asked quietly.

"2," Roger replied, his relief that Mark was awake written on his face, "Mary's already up, she's actually eating something, and you were out for a while."

"Did you get some sleep?" Mark asked, slowly getting up himself, "And did you take…"

Roger took out the AZT bottle that he stuffed in his pocket and rattled it.

"Yep, I did," Roger gave him a hand up, "You don't have to worry about me Mother."

"Damn," Mark muttered, "No one has told Mary's mother about this, right? My own mother is used to my being mugged, she'll probably send money."

"No need, Mary paid your E.R. bill," Roger replied quickly, not remembering the promise he made her until he said it, "Fuck."

The face he made told Mark more than words could. He could see the pact she made with Roger falling apart.

"Shit," Mark replied, "I thought I told her not to do that."

"Mark, she was conscious, you weren't," Roger said, handing him his glasses, "They were taking forever to get to you, and she wanted to make sure that you got tests when you needed it. She was looking out for you, so stop it."

"But I should be looking out for her," Mark said, "That's what people do in a relationship, right?"

"Usually," Roger replied, "She loves you man. Deal with it."

"Yeah, I will," Mark said, walking out into the living room, "How is she feeling?"

"You can ask me that," Mary said, from where she had landed on the couch, "You ok?"

"The headache is settling down," Mark said, slowly heading toward the kitchen, "What I think I needed more was sleep. You?"

"No headache, surprisingly," she replied, watching him, "Hand's killing me."

"Mary, you should have just given up your bag, slugging the guy didn't help," Mark said, filling the teapot with water.

"How much do you remember?" she asked, "Once you went down it gets pretty blurry for me."

"You slugging that guy as his buddy hit me," Mark continued, putting the pot on the hot plate, "You screamed and I turned to see what was going on, then I remember pavement."

"Ouch," Roger said, from his usual spot by the window, "The doctor said you were hit by something, that's why he wanted us to keep checking on you. The headache should go away soon, but he doesn't know how long it will take."

"And I get to have my hand looked at next week by the theater's doctor," Mary said, glancing at Roger, "Wear the brace until then, they said."

"So, you don't get to finish the run of Nutcracker?" Mimi asked, "That sucks, Mary."

Mary leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. The impact of that statement still hadn't hit her. Whenever she spent extended periods off the stage it was horrible, like withdrawing from a drug.

"Yeah, it does suck," she said, her voice cracking, "I was really good at it, too."

The teapot came to a boil and started to whistle. Mark gently picked up the pot and poured the hot water into his waiting mug.

"Mary, you are good at it," Mark said, "I know it sucks that you don't get to finish it, but you were great when I saw it. There will be other ballets, sweetheart."

"Thanks Mark," Mary said, "but you aren't the theater's main supporters. When they like a ballerina, then they are usually set for life. This puts me out of the running for next season's big roles."

"Sorry, honey," Mark replied, adding milk to his tea, "Is there anything you can do?"

"Right now, no," her reply was soft, "Other than heal."

"They'll let you dance with the brace?" Mimi asked, "Won't that throw your balance off?"

"Yeah, it will," Mary replied, "But I can still take classes. The concussion is another story."

"It throws your balance way off," Mimi replied, "I had one a long time ago, I remember."

"Thanks," Mary said, opening an eye and looking at Mimi, "I can't believe I wound up with this one. He didn't hit me that hard."

"Hard enough to crack your head," Roger said, "The main thing to remember here is that it could have been worse. You both are lucky to be here."

"Lucky, huh?" Mary sat up, "Roger, I can't dance like this for at least a week, possibly two. I don't feel so lucky."

"Hey, don't launch on him," Mark said, sitting down next to her, "This is a stupid situation that we are in, Mary. Both of us."

"Yeah, I know," Mary's hand hurt, her head hurt and she was grumpy, "Stupidity fucking reigns. We aren't that lucky, Mark."

"Baby, what is wrong?" Mark asked, "You feel like shit?"

"That's an understatement," Mary replied, "I can't do what I love, Mark. This sucks. My head hurts, my hand is killing me, and all I want to do is be getting ready for a show."

"There's going to be other ballets, Mary," Mark said, "You're going to have to sit the rest of this one out."

"You don't get it, I don't want to," Mary said, "This is my life we're talking about, Mark. Without dance, I'm not me."

"I know that," Mimi said, "If I couldn't dance I would go crazy."

"Try it like this Mimi," Mary said, getting up, "Every day I dance. I get up early, I go to class, then another class, then another class, if I am lucky, I can squeeze a fourth one in, if I am not in a show. It's my living, my passion, my reason to breathe in the morning."

"Like me with filming," Mark said, "I get it."

"No, you don't," Mary sat up and looked at him, "You can't understand why I can't stand sitting here."

"The reason you're sitting here is because three guys wanted your money last night," Mark said, "The reason I am here is because I let them take it."

Mary glared at him.

"That's bullshit Mark," Mary said, "They wanted both of our monies, and you did what you could, you had no clue the guy was going to hit you over the head."

"No, but I could have protected you better," Mark said.

"I can take care of myself, Mark," Mary said, "I did before I met you."

Mark was stunned. Mary was angry. He hadn't seen like this before, only with her mother.

"I know what you're saying about dance, chica," Mimi said, trying to break the tension that was building, "You going to be okay?"

"No," Mary said, getting up, "I'm not."

She slowly walked over to the door of the loft, grabbed her coat and gently pulled it around her shoulders.

"I need to get some air," she announced, heading toward the window that lead out to the fire escape, "I'm not going far, since I can't."

"I'll go with," Roger said, grabbing his jacket, "I need some air myself."

He gave Mimi a sympathetic look as he followed Mary. Mark watched the look between them and sighed. He couldn't get anything right.

"You're being an idiot, Mark Cohen," Mimi started, "Can't you see that girl is hurting?"

Mark agreed.

"Mimi, what the hell do I do?" Mark started, "She wouldn't listen to me if I had told her to let them have her purse, she would still fight them off. I wanted it all to stop and would have if I hadn't wound up on the sidewalk."

"She's not mad about the fight, she's mad about not being able to dance," Mimi said, "She's also scared. She gets to spend more time with you, but are you the one she wants to spend it with?"

"I don't get it."

"Mark, LISTEN to me," Mimi said, her voice raising for the first time in a while, "All she's ever known is dance. She now can't dance, not even get on her toes until her head is healed. They aren't going to let her dance shows until her hand is healed. When you stop dancing, even for a little while, all the effort you put into it goes away. Quickly. Your body line, which you have starved yourself to get, starts to change, your gravity starts to sag, she's scared she might not ever be able to get that back."

Mark listened to Mimi; he hadn't seen it that way.

Mary on the other hand, was quietly sitting on the stairs that led to Mimi's old apartment, trying to shake the fury that rolled through her body.

"You going to be okay?" Roger asked, his back to her, his fingers stumbling for a cigarette, "Or are you going to sit out here and freeze."

"A little bit of both," Mary replied after a while, "Dammit, he makes me so angry."

"He shouldn't," Roger said, "I know he's frustrating, mothering and annoying at times, but that's Mark for you. He's pissed because he couldn't do anything to help you."

"I know, I know," she snapped, "He's just infuriating when he doesn't get it. Me not dancing is…"

"Losing a part of yourself?" Roger interrupted, lighting his cigarette, "Losing the one thing that makes you unbelievably happy?"

"Heard this from me before have you?" she asked grimly, "I am such a broken record."

Roger came over and sat down next to her.

"No, live it myself," he said, "Mark doesn't understand the need that we have to be on stage. He lives behind the camera, remember? You ever try to film the man?"

"No, does he get all crazy?" she met his eyes as they sparkled with a memory.

"Mark Cohen on camera is a fish out of water," Roger laughed, "But I know the real reason he gets that way."

"Okay, Davis, spill," Mary commanded, "What's the deal with him and the camera?"

"Much like you and I, Ms. Blaine," Roger started, "Mark Cohen is a control freak."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Legal Disclaimer-Like I said before-Family Larson owns, I rent. Thank god they haven't asked for payment….

Authors Note: Let me tell you, this was not an easy chapter to write. That said; please note this chapter does include situations not suitable for children. If you have taken a health class in school, you know where we are going….REVIEW please. I feed on the reviews here like they were chocolate. All of you who have heard me ask the questions that I have pondered; this is what I have come up with. Thank you for your insight.

* * *

"A control freak?" Mary laughed, "Yeah, I guess I can see that."

"Oh, come on, you don't see that?" Roger joined her laugh, happy that she was finally showing some emotion, her coldness in the room had scared him, "He is always after me and Mimi to take our AZT, never mind the fact that he runs the camera, no one else."

"How did he get that camera?" Mary asked, "You're his best friend, I know there's probably a story to it."

"His parents," Roger said, "He was the A/V nerd in school, all he did for school was make sure that equipment was perfect for whatever was needed. He was really into Lucas, Spielberg and all the directors of the sixties, seventies and eighties, one day we started talking about it, and he mentioned to me how he loves to make sound equipment run perfectly. With me starting a band, that made him perfect for the band, as our tech guy. We've been best friends ever since. He makes music videos too; he probably hasn't mentioned that to you yet."

"He will argue his way into anything using that camera," Mary added, "Okay, I see your point, but why can't he see mine?"

"Thick headed, that's Mark Cohen," Roger continued, "Mary; he's embarrassed that you were the one to beat off the muggers last night."

"Male ego bullshit?" Mary asked, "God, I am so tired of that."

"Hey, I'm a male with an ego, so watch it," Roger bantered back, "He wants to protect you, make sure that nothing happens to you."

"Nothing will, hasn't he clued in on that yet?" Mary's annoyance was visible.

"Uh, Mary, I don't have a broken hand and a concussion," Roger continued, "He really doesn't get the whole need to perform thing, he films and edits then doesn't get to see the audience's reaction instantly. I tried to get it through his head when I was in Mute but, he still didn't get it."

"I would have loved to have known you in your front man days," Mary said, "Then again, how much smack were you doing?"

"Too much," Roger said, "And that's why I worry about you, you have a similar thing going on, Mary. You are jonesing for the stage, aren't you?"

The comment took her off guard. She looked at him, the expression in his eyes screaming at her, but his own feeling pretty evident. He wanted her to be well, healthy and whole. Her time with Mark was showing her the world outside of the stage, but she was lost.

"Yeah, I am," she admitted, "You're right."

"Mary, even if I have to sit on you with Mark, you are going to let your head heal before you go and dance," Roger said, "I swear this to you as a fellow performer."

"You don't have to do that," Mary said, "I'll listen."

Mark sat watching their conversation knowing that he would love to be able to be that comfortable with her. How did Roger do it? He knew that his best friend didn't love her like he did, he had Mimi, but the comfort level he had with Mary had him curious. What was it about her that made her so comfortable with everyone?

"She's a bright light to many of us," Mimi said, not realizing she was reading his mind, "Mark, she brings out a light in you that we aren't used to seeing. That's why we love her so much."

"Really," Mark said, "I'm sorry I'm such a downer."

"That's not it at all, Mark," Mimi said, coming up to sit next to him, "You took on a great responsibility when Roger got diagnosed. When you met me and I fell into your life, you got us both. You haven't complained. You have busted your ass, starved, sold blood and done everything that you can to keep the three of us alive. I know that Roger appreciates it, I love you for it, and to see someone walk into your life where the situation you're in doesn't matter is perfect. It's a gift. You have to realize though, what her life is like."

"I'm just getting that," Mark said, "She doesn't have a clue what to do without the dance."

"That's right," Mimi replied, "She is a ballerina. They are perfectionists. If the line of the body isn't perfect, you train until it is."

"Gives you a negative body image, huh?" Mark asked.

"Anorexic is considered a good look," Mimi continued, "At least for several ballerinas, Mary's lucky. She eats and doesn't gain. This much time off is going to drive her nuts."

"And we're here for it," Mark added.

"Yeah, but you guys have each other for this, Mark," Mimi stated, putting an arm around him, "Roger's going to stay with you guys tonight, I have to go dance."

"Okay," Mark nodded, "You think I should apologize."

"It wouldn't hurt; you have to be understanding, "Mimi said, walking away from him and toward the bedroom, "She needs that the most right now."

"I know, I know," Mark said, "Thanks for pointing it out to me."

"It was either that or hit you over the head with it, but that's already happened to you," Mimi said, laughing.

* * *

Mimi left for work and Roger convinced Mary to come in from the fire escape. Mark didn't say anything, just handed her a cup of cocoa to warm her up. She took it from him with a smile, and then turned for the bedroom. She wanted to lie down again, her headache had returned. He kissed her on the cheek as she left, her eyes lighting up again. She closed the door to the bedroom as Roger went into the kitchen to pour himself some more coffee.

"She okay?" Mark asked him.

"She will be," Roger replied, "There's a whole lot going on under the surface with her; she's irritated that you don't see what she is going through not being able to dance."

"Mimi clued me in on it," Mark admitted, "That's a great woman you have there, Roger."

"Mary's a great woman as well," Roger added, walking into their living area and sitting down, "You don't realize that she's as into dance as you are into the camera."

"I do realize that," Mark said, "Finally."

"Do me a favor," Roger said, "Go make up with her. You need to, don't let her sleep on this."

Mark looked at Roger, then turned for his bedroom. Roger sat down and pulled up his guitar, it was time to work on some music.

* * *

Mary was awake as Mark entered the bedroom, watching him as he entered. She had curled up with a pillow and her eyes followed him as he sat down on the bed.

"Are we going to continue this fight?" she asked, "Because I don't have the energy for it, Mark."

"You have the energy to listen to an apology?" Mark asked, settling in next to her, "I'm an idiot."

"Can I get that in writing?" Mary teased, putting her head on his chest, "I think that it needs to be in the media."

Mark laughed.

"C'mon, I'm trying," he continued, "I'm sorry I didn't realize that you not dancing is so scary. I should have seen it, honey."

He gently rubbed circles in her back, feeling her tension vanish.

"You've dated artists before; you haven't seen it in others?" Mary asked, "God that feels wonderful."

He continued to work on her shoulders, shifting to gently work on the knots he knew were hiding in her spine. She responded by lying flat on her stomach.

"Maureen isn't just an artist, she is a human supernova," Mark said, "Loved her, love her still, but she's not you, and she never had a concussion from work."

"If what you were doing didn't feel so great, I might have the energy to fight you, Marcus, but, I don't, did I mention that your apology was accepted?"

Mark laughed and kissed the back of her neck. He found himself kissing her, her responding, and the passion between the two of them building. He gathered her in his arms, shifting her from her stomach to where he could kiss the front of her neck. Her hands went to the back of his neck and down his back.

He stopped for a moment. This could go somewhere, and he wasn't certain if this was the time. He sat up, looked at her, and then sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn't the right time.

"I can't do this," Mark said, "I'm sorry."

"Mark, I," Mary stammered, "I was, I mean I am, ready, but…"

"It wouldn't be a good idea, Mary. You and I have been through so much lately that I think I would be taking advantage of you if I did, I mean we…" Mark grew silent.

For the first time in a while, he didn't have the words to say. He knew that he loved her, but she was so vulnerable right now that if he had pressed the issue, they would regret it.

Mary felt herself tearing up. No one had ever been this honest with her. She couldn't help but love Mark for it. She sat up and put her hands around him.

"You're right," she said, "Besides, didn't the doctor say that we should refrain from strenuous activity? Roger would kill us if we got any worse."

Mark laughed bitterly. He had to admit that she was right. It sucked, but he knew she was right. There would be a time, but this wasn't it.

"You know I love you right?" Mary asked softly, whispering in his ear.

"Yeah, and I love you," Mark's reply was as soft.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Legal Disclaimer-Larson's Own, I still rent.

Author's Note: My reviewers are golden. I love you all, you keep me writing. Merline-your thoughts made this chapter work, thank you and accept my humble dedication. I promise this is coming to an end soon, I see 30 chapters total. What's going to happen? You'll see, (sing it Taye)….You'll see boys….

* * *

When morning dawned, Mark knew that the sun wasn't his friend. The injuries of the day before were beginning to rear their collective ugly heads and he knew that the phone ringing was going to wake up everyone. He tried desperately to move to get the phone, but he was so stiff it was hard to move. Mary had curled up on him with her long hair covering him. It was more comfortable to stay where he was, but he knew that he would have to get up. The slight knock on the door was no help.

"Mark?" Roger asked softly, "It's Buzzline for you."

"Yeah, I'm getting there," Mark replied, shifting a pillow under Mary's head so that she wouldn't feel him moving, "Tell them to hang on, will you?"

He stood up quickly, bit his lip to stop the lurch that the room gave him and headed for the living room. He looked back at Mary still sleeping and realized that the evening hadn't been great to her. She had bruises on her face from the mugging.

He picked up the phone as Roger looked at him. The cringing look Roger gave him let him know that he hadn't escaped bruises either.

"Hello Lexi," Mark began, "Yeah, well, I had this little mugging happen so I apologize for not calling you yesterday. No, I can get in there this afternoon if it can be arranged. Feature story? I thought it was going to be a Christmas segment. Network? WHAT!"

Roger put his coffee cup down and stared at him. Mark was awake now. He thanked Lexi then put the phone down.

"Network," Mark said to himself, staring at the phone.

"What?" Roger asked, "What about the Network?"

Mark turned and looked at him with a look somewhere between shock and joy.

"Lexi said the networks loved my Christmas piece so much they are airing on the NATIONAL networks. I need to go to the studios to add music to it and pick up my additional check," Mark said, his hands shaking, "I'm getting 10 thousand more dollars for it."

Roger gave Mark a bear hug and whooped.

"Holy shit, man, that is fantastic," Roger said, gently putting Mark back down, "You okay?"

"It's not selling out is it?" Mark asked, "I mean we need the money, Rog."

Roger stared at him for a moment. Mark's work was so unique and like nothing anyone had seen on TV that he wasn't selling out. Buzz line, after "Today 4 U" acknowledged his style and left him alone with it. They didn't tell him how to shoot and what to shoot, they just watched what he shot, then told him if they would air it or not. For this to happen, they must have liked it. For it to go Network meant it was fantastic.

"Depends," Roger said, "What music do they want you to use?"

"Nothing that people already know," Mark replied, still stunned, "It just needs to be cleared to air. And they said it was my choice, they want to leave the shots alone as is."

"Make sure it's music you're happy with and you should be okay," Roger replied, "Don't let them dictate what you put in."

"Amen," Mark laughed, giddy, "You don't have anything you want to add, right?"

"Music?" Roger asked.

"I've heard you out here," Mark said, making tea, "You have something in the works."

"Yeah, Yeah, I know," Roger replied, "You'll hear what I have eventually. I don't think it's ready for broadcast though. The Well Hungarians are not their type of music anyway. Thanks for thinking of us. Way to go, Mark."

Mark mused over the prospect. Ten thousand dollars and he didn't have to sell his soul. Finally.

"What happened?" Mary asked softly, from the door to Mark's bedroom, "I heard the noise and cheering. What did Buzz Line say?"

"Sorry, Mary," Roger said, "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Oh, it's okay," Mary said, heading for the kitchen herself, "I'm usually up at this hour. Mark, how are you feeling this morning?"

"Wealthier," Mark laughed, "Buzz Line's airing the piece NATIONALLY!"

Mary smiled as their eyes met. Her right eye had raised a black mark from the mugging,

he cringed as he looked at her.

"What?" she asked, noticing his look.

"Black eye," he said.

"You have a matching one, but it looks more like road rash," Roger interrupted, "Doctor warned me to expect that."

"Great, you decided to not tell us this?" Mark said, heading for the bathroom to look at his confirming reflection, "Hard to talk to Buzz Line looking like this."

"Yeah, I know," Mary replied, "Try dancing like it."

"How's your hand?" Mark said, walking back to the kitchen and stopping in front of her.

"Hurts," she said, kissing him, "But nothing I can't handle."

"Head?" Roger asked.

"Hurts, and that's what is bothering me," Mary replied, "You guys have anything for it? What did this doctor recommend?"

"Aspirin," Mark replied, before Roger answered, "I read the forms from the hospital Roger. It's in the cabinet, you need help with it?"

Mary walked into their kitchen area behind him and opened the cabinet he pointed to. The aspirin was in a child proof container. It would take two hands and Mary couldn't do it.

"Like the two of you would have children running through here ," Mary said, "Ha."

She looked at Mark, handed it to him and held out her good hand, palm up.

"Two should do the trick," she said, "But there's no way that I can open it."

Mark obliged and put the medication in her hand. He pulled out one for himself then poured her some coffee.

"Sugar and milk, right?" Mark asked, "You go sit, baby."

"Really? Thanks honey," Mary kissed him on the cheek, "You are a god."

"A filmmaking god," Mark smiled, "Mary, I have never gotten ten thousand dollars for a job in my life."

"Fantastic," she said, settling into her chair, "That's wonderful. What are you going to do with the money?"

"I don't know," Mark replied, sitting down next to her, "I know we need to get some advance on the rent, then there's the medical bills, food, film costs…"

"Medical bills? Oh, Rog and Mimi's AZT," Mary said, sipping her coffee, "Film costs, you thinking up a new one?"

"Have been," Mark continued, "It will be nice to be ahead with Benny for once. I also want to pay you back for the E.R."

"No Mark, don't," Mary said, "That was done out of love and necessity, honey."

"Thank you, but I must," Mark continued, "I don't feel right about it."

Mary put her coffee down and looked at him. She was getting upset, which didn't help her head, but she took a deep breath.

"You don't feel right about me doing something for you?" she was blunt, but she realized she snapped, "Mark, I thought we're in a relationship. Damnit. I told you money is evil."

"No, it's not," Mark said, "It's useful when you have it."

"Bullshit, Cohen," Mary said, "I have money and I dance to get the hell away from it. You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" Mark asked, clenching his jaw, "That my girlfriend has more money than me? Yeah, I see it, Mary."

Mary stood up slowly, knowing the nausea from the headache that was starting. She was getting angry, very angry.

"Money isn't everything, Mark Cohen, I thought we were more than that," she spat, "I wanted you to get medical help quickly. You were unconscious; I thought you were dead when that guy hit you. It scared me so badly that I gave up my bag willingly. Now, if you weren't so stubborn, you might have realized that money got you the medical help that you needed quickly. I understand pride, Mark, but this is stupid."

"Why is my pride stupid?" Mark asked, " I appreciate what you did Mary, but you didn't have to do it."

"Actually, she did," Roger interjected, "They weren't going to do much with you otherwise. They were swamped when I got there, Mark. Mary kept insisting that they look at you first because she was so scared."

"Oh," Mark's reply was soft, "I didn't realize that."

"There's a lot you aren't realizing, Mark," Mary continued, "I'm beginning to wonder if they knocked the sense out of your head."

"Probably did," Mark said, "I also didn't get how bad it really was."

"Mark," Mary shook her head at him, "You infuriate me sometimes."

"So do you," Mark said, "I don't know how to handle you sometimes."

Roger looked at both of them and realized that the one place he really shouldn't be was right there. He stood up and quietly left the room, allowing them to glare at each other some more.

"Handle me?" Mary asked, "Since when do I need to be handled?"

"Sorry," Mark said, standing up, "I'm sorry this set you off so badly. I was raised to pay back people who do things for me, Mary. I didn't mean to touch a nerve."

Mary met his eyes. She couldn't help but see the sorrow inside.

"I was the idiot here, Mark," she smiled, "Sorry, baby. I know that you meant well, just that damn money again."

He looked at her and drew her into a kiss.

"I love you, you know that?" Mark asked, "I don't love the money. It's great that they want to pay me more for it, I think it's great. I have an idea. I'm going to update my camera, get a good suit, which I do need, take you to DINNER for Christmas, someplace we both haven't been to, and I'll take the rest and save it. Work for you?"

"Mark, it's your money," Mary replied, putting her good hand around the back of his neck, "Do with it what you must, but can you get your glasses fixed first?"

Mark laughed and took off his glasses.

"What, you don't like the tape?" he asked.

"Yeah, I don't," Mary laughed with him, "Same frames work for me. Tape makes you look even more nerdy."

"Me too," Mark agreed, "Come with me. I have to go to the studios, then we can actually go shopping."

"Only if Roger comes with, ok?" Mary said, "With Mimi working at the bookstore, he's wandering around here too much. Besides, you might want a male perspective on clothes."

"And dress like a rock star?" Mark laughed.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Legal Disclaimer-Larsons own, I borrow without asking.

Author's Note-LONG week. Not much sleep, working a whole lot. And I do need to move it along, I know. This is a filler type chapter. Reviews are begged for as always.

* * *

As darkness fell, Mary reflected on the day as she sat on the roof of the building and drank hot chocolate. She had come upstairs after Roger had left for rehearsal and Mark actually went to lie down. The traveling to the studio, the shopping and the lunch they had all had at the Life Café had tired him.

She had kept him busy, trying to get his focus off his sudden wealth and realizing the wealth of his friends. He knew it, but he was a little lost when he saw all the zeroes on the check that Lexi handed him. Mary marched him to the bank and made him deposit the check immediately. Roger was supportive as well, demanding that Mark spend some of it on himself, even suggesting a vintage clothing store for him to find that suit he needed. Roger kept after Mark to take the time for himself. He teased Mark about some of the clothes, but he was a great help to both of them.

His presence kept the atmosphere light, and it also kept Roger happy, because seeing Mark lifeless the day before had scared him. It had scared him more than he liked to admit. He knew that Mark would be cautious about the money, but he did need to spend a little on himself. When Mark had insisted on not spending the money, knowing that Roger and Mimi needed it for the AZT, he nearly cried. There were times when he felt that Mark sacrificed too much for his own joy and was almost willing to come to blows for his friend to have a little fun. Mary had intervened and got Mark to loosen up and agree to the shopping trip.

A little searching and they had the perfect outfit put together for Mark. Mary and Roger had laughed about how well they worked together. Mary also made sure that Mark got his glasses replaced. The doctor at the one hour place they went to made sure that his prescription was updated and Mark actually managed to find frames that were identical to his old ones. Mary's comment about the glasses and tape had made him think about changing his frames, but the old style still suited him. It was also great to see them a little better.

Mary had also insisted that he check his favorite pawn shop just to see if he could update his film camera. He loved his Bolex, it was an attachment that he could and would not give up, but if there was another model in great shape, it would be an additional camera to add to his collection. They found a camera that he didn't have to wind, which to Mark was a godsend, and the price was great as well. Mark began to feel even more like a filmmaker.

All in all, his life was a little smoother thanks to her suggestions. The money in the bank would take care of the rent for the next few months, along with the incidentals that made the bohemians life a constant struggle. Fate in its own way made a great Christmas present for the boys. For the first time in a long time, they had a security blanket.

Mary worked more on her chocolate and knew that she really should get up from the lawn chair that they had spread out upstairs. The only issue was that she was finally comfortable. She buttoned her coat and settled further into the chair. She closed her eyes to rest.

Two hours later, Mark Cohen woke up and realized that Mary wasn't were he last saw her. He tried not to panic, noticed that she had made hot chocolate, and then remembered how she had discovered Roger's love for going up on the roof to think. He headed up there, hoping to find her, sitting and thinking.

He approached her sleeping form. Leaning over, he realized how asleep she was. He knew Mary had issues with her sleep, the stress of past few weeks had been rough for her to deal with; he knew her sleeplessness was from that. He had caught her on the couch napping when she had come home from class, and he watched her now, sleeping like an angel.

Her face was completely relaxed. There was no tension lingering in her jaw line, her serene look was accented by the movement of her chest as she breathed in and out. The bruise from their mugging was dark and angry looking on her left eye. It was also evident that she was getting cold. He kissed her forehead.

"Mary?" Mark asked gently, placing his hand on her good wrist, "Baby, you need to wake up."

"Hunnn?" she asked sleepily, "I don't want to…"

Mark ran a fingertip down the side of her face. He gently avoided the bruises. She reacted to his touch and slowly opened her eyes. Green met blue.

"Hey," she mumbled, "How long was I out?"

"I don't know," Mark said, "It's getting cold up here and I was worried."

Mary looked at her watch. It had been about 2 and half hours.

"Crap, I didn't mean to fall asleep," Mary sat up, "Did you get some sleep?"

Mark smiled. Some of the serenity of her sleep was still in her eyes.

"Yeah, I did," Mark said, "Then I got really lonely. I realized Roger went to practice and I couldn't find you."

"Came up here to think," she said, putting both hands down as she tried to get up.

A jolt of pain reminded her that her left hand was in a brace. She grimaced.

"Damn," she muttered, "That hurt."

"Take it slowly," Mark suggested, "You need help up?"

She nodded no and got her feet under her as she stood up. She stretched and turned to him.

"Thanks, I got it," she laughed, "How about dinner?"

"It'll probably be here in a few minutes," Mark replied, "Remember, its Wednesday."

* * *

By the time Roger showed up from rehearsal, Collins had left him some mushu pork and Mark was sitting contently on the threadbare couch, Mary curled up in his lap. She had grabbed a pillow and used Mark as a pillow frame. She was fast asleep. The heat was on in the loft, making it comfortable for the first time in years.

"You guys left me food, right?" he asked, coming in, "How's she doing?"

"She's out cold," Mark said, "She had been upstairs thinking after you went onto rehearsal, and she fell asleep. I woke her up."

"You think everything is catching up with her?" Roger asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I do," Mark replied, gently rubbing circles in her back, "Eating helped. Sleeping is better."

Roger smiled and walked into their kitchen area.

"Why couldn't Collins stay?" Roger asked, putting the food into a bowl.

"Chang told his parents tonight about Collins," Mark said, "There was lots of drama, throwing of dishes, but afterward, the family seems to be coming together and accepting of the whole thing. They went over together to make sure that the family drama is over. Means we will probably see more of them now."

"Thank god," Roger said, "It must have been so hard for them to live a lie."

"Yeah, it was," Mark replied, "They're doing okay though."

"Meems call?" Roger asked as well, "I know that she wasn't going to be long at the Scratch tonight."

"She should be…" Mark was interrupted by the door to the loft opening, "Right behind you."

Mimi looked at the scene as she walked in. Finally they had peace in the loft and for once, Mark didn't look like a third wheel. She had gotten used to Mary being there, and was happy that everyone was home.

"So, what have I missed?" she asked, putting her bag down and hanging it up on the hooks that Mark had placed next to the door.

"Nothing much," Mark said, not changing in his constant motion of rubbing Mary's back, "Mary's asleep, Roger's stealing your dinner, and I made ten thousand dollars today."

"WHAT!" Mimi exclaimed, but knowing the truth by Mark's expression, "Good for you Mark."

"The piece I did for Buzz Line for Christmas is getting picked up by the networks," Mark smiled, loving her reaction, "We did some grocery shopping, got my glasses replaced and a new camera. The rest, is in the bank."

"That is fantastic Mark," Mimi said, kissing Roger as she walked into the kitchen to pick up the plate of food that he had prepared for her, "How long has Mary been asleep?"

"For a little while," Mark replied, "She's really worn out from everything. I should get her to go on to bed."

"Content to just have her there, aren't you?" Roger asked, raising an eyebrow, "I haven't seen you this content in years."

Mark smiled slightly. Roger was right, he hadn't been this content in years. It was good just to be alive, have some security in his life and someone to love in his lap. Something was going to change this, he knew it, but for the moment, he would just enjoy it.


	25. Chapter 25

Death of a Muse Chapter 25

Legal Disclaimer-This all belongs to Jonathan's Larson's estate. Not me. I have no cash to offer, just my appreciation of his work. It's hard to believe it's been ten years.

Author's Note-_Okay. No excuses. I'll just give you the explanation. I took a class, got a little burnt out, and then I got the DVD. I watched it over and over and think that Chris Columbus needs to be beaten for leaving out all of "Goodbye Love". It doesn't lose the emotional impact. Then I had a moment of writer's block. Sigh. Seems to be done though. I'm working on it the best that I can. Thank you Dennis, my dear Rat boy. Your ideas helped_. Reviews begged for.

* * *

When Mary opened her eyes to the beautiful, yet cold day that New York City offered her, it took everything she had to crawl out of bed. Mark had carried her off to bed that evening, she barely remembered it, but having his body warmth sharing hers was something that she loved. It was almost Christmas, but to her, every day was a present.

Moving slowly, she sat up, making sure that Mark wasn't disturbed. He shifted in his sleep, taking her pillow and curling up with it. He was out. She looked back at him, trying not to rearrange his hair while he slept.

She stretched, her dancer's body instantly working out the rough spots, but feeling like her head was going to explode, she suddenly stopped. She had felt better when she first got up, but the dizziness passed, so she did feel a little better. She headed out of the tiny bedroom and into the hall, knowing from the sounds she heard earlier that Roger was up.

His warm smile greeted her.

"Hey there Sleeping Beauty," he said, sitting at his usual perch by the window, watching the city pass beneath them, "How you feeling?"

"Better," she smiled, "Do I smell coffee?"

"Brewed it a few minutes ago," he said, "So, it's fresh. Mark still out of it?"

"Yeah, what time did he drag me off to bed?" she asked, pouring the steaming brew into a broken cup, making a mental note to get them some real coffee mugs for Christmas.

"About 11, Meems came home after that, she's out too," Roger moved so that she could sit against the window, "How are you really feeling?"

"A little dizzy this morning, but overall okay," Mary watched his gaze, "Don't worry, Rog, I am okay. Besides, I have things to do today."

"Things?"

"I need to check in with the ABT doc and pick up my mail," Mary started, "I should stop in and see what they are up to, you know?"

"How much trouble are you in?"

"Well, thanks to the concussion, I'm out of the show," she continued, "The hand doesn't help, but I can still dance. I should at least show up for a class or two."

"Want company?" Roger asked.

"I can get there, but thank you," Mary said, "Maybe I'll bring dinner home?"

"That could work," Roger laughed, "It's hard to believe it's almost Christmas."

"We need to decorate around here," she stated, "It's a little too bland."

"Let me and Meems work on that," Roger got up, putting a hand out to help her up, "We have a plan for premiere night too."

"A plan?" she asked.

"Not telling you," Roger grinned, "Let's just say it's a present from us to you guys."

* * *

The thought of whatRoger and Mimihad planned had Mary thinking all about it as she rode the subway to the ABT. She could have taken a cab, but she wanted the hustle and bustle of New York City. She missed the smell of chalk and resin that you only smelled in a rehearsal hall and the not so gentle comments of the instructors as you tried to perfect your own line as you danced. She needed to go home.

Walking into the building, she knew that she had been missed. Younger dancers were smiling when they saw her, and the instructors were all asking how she felt. She stopped in to see the medic, got her next set of medical instructions, and then headed for her mailbox. She wasn't surprised to see it fully loaded.

The usual Christmas mail was there, along with a note from her brother, and a letter she didn't expect. She opened it, stared at it, and then folded it up in her bag. She would have to think about it. She put it out of her head before she headed to class, though; she needed to dance. The rest would work itself out.

Mark awoke to the sound of the ringing phone. As he opened his eyes and yawned, he waited for the machine to pick up. Ever since their yelling fits with Benny, Mark and Roger knew that the machine was their secretary. If their callers knew them, they would know how to reply after speak.

"MARK!" Mary's voice called out from the machine, "When you get this, meet me for lunch at the Life."

Mark looked at the bed and realized that Mary wasn't there. She had said something about going to the theater today, but she hadn't waited for him.

He got up, walked toward the machine and played the message back. He had been in such a deep sleep he wanted to make sure that he had heard her right. She wanted to meet him for lunch.

A quick glance to his watch made him jump. It was 11:00am. Almost lunch time. He looked around the loft and realized that he was alone. Roger had left a note about practice, Mimi's work schedule kept her busy, and Mary had called. He needed a shower then he would go and see his girlfriend.

* * *

Usual lunch crowd at the Life Café, but Mary sat in a booth where she could see the front door. She waited for Mark and reread the letter. It was straightforward and a dream come true. It wasn't the dream that she knew Mark would like. She folded it up and put it in her bag. There was no need to dwell on it.

Mark walked in and stopped. The joy of his new glasses was that he could see clearer, but to look over and see Mary's radiant face was worth the extra cash it took to bring his prescription up to date. He walked over to her, kissed her, and then settled into the seat across from her.

"Hi there, do I know you?" Mary asked, laughing.

"God, I hope so, otherwise there's another beautiful woman walking around who looks like you," Mark said, "How's your day?"

"Did you just wake up?" Mary said, settling back and looking into his eyes.

"Yep, didn't move until the phone rang," he replied, "Might have slept through it until you yelled."

"I've learned that about you and Roger," she said.

"You've learned plenty about us," Mark said, "How's the ABT? Still standing?"

She smiled.

"They missed me," she started, "The doc said I should take it easy, so I only took one class. Picked up my mail, and should be back there when my hand is up to it."

She held up her hand, where the doctor had replaced the hard brace with a softer one.

"The doc even suggested that I take it out of this every once and a while," she continued, "As for the class, it felt so good."

"No dizziness?" Mark asked.

"A little this morning," she admitted, "It cleared though."

They were interrupted by the waiter. They quickly placed an order. As he left, Mark gently grabbed her good hand on the table.

"Honey, it's Christmas, can't you allow yourself some time off?" he asked.

Blue eyes met green.

"Hello Pot, I'm Black," Mary snapped, "You're as big a workaholic as I am, Mark."

"Yeah, I know, but, I don't want you passing out on me," Mark replied quickly, "I love you too much for that."

Mary stopped. He was sincere.

"It's going to take about two weeks till I'm good enough to dance with the company, Mark," she said, "I go mad when I don't dance."

"I've noticed," he continued, "Just don't overdo it. I can't lose you right now. Everything is going well, Mary. It's been two years since I've felt comfortable, don't you get it?"

Mary squeezed his hand.

"I do," her voice was soft, "I have to dance, Mark. It's like if I asked you not to film."

Mark nodded. They understood each other.

They were interrupted by the arrival of lunch. The conversation switched to Mary explaining her day at the theater and how happy she was just to dance. Mark's thoughts turned to the approaching holiday and he asked her advice on what to get Roger and Mimi. They ate and chatted, the stress of their earlier conversation understood, and they planned to go shopping after they ate.

Hand in hand they left, walking toward the subway.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Legal Disclaimer-Not mine. Dang it.

Author's Note-I'm back….And even updating a little more…thanks for the warm welcome back guys. Sorry that it took so long. Biggest question I have had is what is in the letter? I'll tell you, in the next few chapters. Please review. Ratboy, three more chapters to go….

The joy of Christmas shopping is anticipating the look of the recipient of the gift. At least, that's what all the marketing folks hope shoppers will think as they walk through crowded stores, looking for the perfect gift.

For Mark Cohen, Christmas shopping was always a small form of insanity, reserved for those who celebrated the holiday, but at the same time, he mused on past memories of shopping at home in Scarsdale.

Soho wasn't the Scarsdale mall, but, it was still crowded, it was still insane, but watching Mary go to town figuring out guitar straps and sweaters for Mimi and Roger was like watching a work of art. If you didn't know that Mary had money, you would have thought her to be one of the local street folk, her bargaining skills were amazing.

"I was hoping to find a bag for Collins," Mary said to him, after her latest purchase was wrapped up, "He's carrying stuff to school in such an old bag, I was hoping to find him something he could use."

"He'll carry that bag until it completely falls apart, Mary," Mark put an arm around her as they started back toward the subway, "Angel gave it to him for Christmas."

"Oh," Mary was quiet, "I still wish I could have met her."

"Christmas is always hard on him, he misses her still, luckily he's got Chang now," Mark continued, "He's bringing dinner tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? We're doing dinner at the loft Christmas Eve?" Mary asked.

"Actually, it's more like a feast," Mark laughed, "Everyone brings something, we all eat, it's kind of like a peasant's feast."

"Cool, I love that," Mary smiled, "I guess we need to stop by the grocery on the way back too."

"You cook too?" he looked at her.

"At Christmas, yes," she handed him her bags, "I make a mean salad. But what about Buzz Line?"

"We'll eat before it airs," Mark began, "I don't intend to miss it."

That evening Roger and Mimi threw glances at each other as the group ate dinner. Collins, being on break, wanted to make sure the bohemians ate regularly, and Chang's giving family gave them a pre-Christmas Chinese feast. It was the perfect set up for the surprise they had planned.

"So, what are you two up to?" Mark asked from his place at their small table, "I've been watching you two for the past ten minutes. Out with it, or Mimi's going to bust."

"Can't," Mimi replied, "It's Maureen and Joanne's surprise."

"And they aren't here," Mary added, "What are you guys up to?"

"You'll see," Roger gave her his best evil smile, "You'll love it too."

Mark glanced over to Mary. Her green eyes were sparkling.

"You sure about that?" she asked.

Roger nodded. His pager going off broke the happy moment, but he waved it off, opening up the bottle he carried in his shirt pocket, taking his AZT then using his glass of water to chase it down. Mark's eye met his. While it was great to have a happy moment, he was used to not having them.

"Mary, don't worry about it," Roger continued, "You and Mark will love it."

"Oh, so it's for both of us," Mark concluded, "From Maureen and Joanne?"

"And Me, and Mimi and Roger," Collins added, "You'll find out tomorrow, children."

His look said it was pointless to continue the argument. They ate, enjoying the evening in a loft, which for the first time in a long time, was perfectly warm.

The morning dawned bright. Mark woke first. He gently leaned on his elbows as he woke, trying to not wake Mary. The redhead was bundled in the down comforter that engulfed their small bed. It was hard to believe it was finally Christmas eve, and tonight she would see what he had worked so hard on.

He also was curious to what everyone had planned for them. The present was for both of them. He hated surprises.

Kissing her forehead, he shifted and moved from the bed, making sure his movements didn't wake her. She shifted, but only to grab the pillow and move back toward her side of their bed.

He took a second to watch her then moved onward to the world outside of their room. Roger was already up, working out a song on his guitar, his concentration on the chords and melody, as he scribbled them down in his ever present notebook. He looked up as Mark walked into the kitchen area, stretching.

"Morning," he said softly, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, you?" he asked as he started to look for his usual mug. It was missing from it's hook on the wall.

"Check under the stove, you might be surprised," Roger said, "Merry Christmas Eve."

Perplexed, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked under the stove. A box marked "Mark, Roger, Mimi from me…" greeted him. He picked it up and opened it. Inside was a series of coffee mugs, all based on what they did, no names included. It was easy to find Mark's. It was covered in film strip artwork.

"She must have looked all over for it," Mark said, looking at it, "It's pretty incredible."

"Totally a gift from her though," Roger replied, "I'm impressed. Mimi found them very early this morning."

"She still here?" Mark asked, "Don't tell me she had to work this early."

"Busiest shopping day of the year," Roger replied, "She'll be joining us tonight though."

"Fair enough," Mark replied, "How does yours look?"

Roger held his up. It was covered in guitars and musical notes. It seemed like Mary had read everyone's minds and made sure that it was reflected in their drinkware.

"I notice she doesn't have one for herself," Mark observed, "I wonder why?"

"Probably couldn't find another one, Mimi's is in the sink and it's unique. I'm impressed, Mark," Roger said, getting up from his perch on the window and making sure that he grabbed the new mug, "Even made more coffee to use it."

"She's fit in around here quite nicely, hasn't she?" Mark asked, putting the water on to boil for his morning tea, "I just keep thinking she's going to leave…"

"Stop it," Roger said, looking at him, "She's not."

"I know that you don't think she will," Mark said, pouring the hot water as it boiled into the teapot, "But, after Mo, I don't know how to keep a woman in my life…"

"Just love her, Mark, that's all she wants," Roger said, "She cares about you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Mark looked at him, "Sometimes just hard to remember that."


End file.
